


Some sunny day

by frostysunflowers



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AI Tony Stark appearance, Bonding, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hopeful Ending, Iron family is forever, James "Rhodey" Rhodes Needs a Hug, Moving On, Nebula is a Good Bro (Marvel), Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:20:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29501898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostysunflowers/pseuds/frostysunflowers
Summary: "You’re in pain."Rhodey snorts, his answering smile rueful. "Aren’t we all?""Tony wouldn’t want this.""Tony didn’t want a lot of things," Rhodey snaps. "He didn’t want to spend his life living in fear, but he did because nobody fully believed him. Not - " his words stick in his throat and he brings a fist to his lips. "Not even me, for a long time, not until it was really too late. And now…" Rhodey offers her a helpless shrug. "Now he’s gone and we have to live with it."orWith a colossal grief clouding everything in the wake of Tony's death, Rhodey and Nebula take a trip to space.
Relationships: James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, Nebula & James "Rhodey" Rhodes
Comments: 20
Kudos: 45





	Some sunny day

**Author's Note:**

> You know those fics that consume your soul so much that when it comes time to post them, you feel massively exposed? This is the one for me haha. I can't describe how much this fic means to me, how much the experience of writing it has been overwhelming and cathartic at the same time, and I'm terrified of putting it out there but HERE WE ARE! 
> 
> Huge huge huge thank you to SpideyFics for coming in to save my ass and giving the best compliments when reading this over at short notice, and another huge huge huge thank you to hailingstars for all the flailing and crying whenever I talked about this or posted sad snippets haha, I'm so grateful! 
> 
> Please enjoy <3
> 
> Also warning for (at the time of posting) minor/sort of/maybe spoilers for Wandavision.

It’s been just over a month since the funeral when Rhodey opens the door to find Nebula standing on his front doorstep, damp from the drizzle that’s been lingering for days. 

His first thought is to wonder how she found him. Despite owning this house most of his adult life, he’s barely lived in it. During the last five years, he must have set foot inside the place a grand total of six times, merely to collect an item of clothing or some small treasure that he wanted to keep close by in his room at the compound. He knows Nebula has her ways, so instead of questioning why, he merely steps aside and waves her in with something that once might have looked like a welcoming smile. 

Nebula slowly prowls down the hall and into the living room, dark eyes taking in every detail of the place: the furniture that’s seen better days, the random ornaments dotted around on shelves and above the non-functioning fireplace, the picture frames that hang on the wall and stand on the bookcase in the corner. She picks up one of his mother and father, looks at it for a minute, then sets it back down. Rhodey sees the moment she spots Tony’s face, albeit younger than she’s ever seen it, staring out from another frame. Her hand is slow as it reaches out, one metal fingertip touching the glass with a soft _tink._

"That was taken when we were at college," Rhodey says, not needing to look to know which picture it is. "During the holidays. We’d been roommates for a while and that was the first picture we ever took together. First one Tony ever had with a friend."

The cavernous hole that’s been sitting inside him for what feels like forever pulls open even further, the ache within chiselling further into his bones. He remembers that day so vividly, like it really was only last week that Tony, young and merry on Christmas punch, grabbed someone’s polaroid camera, pressed his face right up against Rhodey’s and shouted, "Say cheeeeese, honeybear!" before blinding them both with a bright flash. The frame had appeared two days later on Tony’s bedside table, angled so that Rhodey could also get a glimpse of their smiling faces whenever he walked into the room. 

He’d obtained a copy of it for himself a few years later and it’s sat in the same spot on the same shelf ever since, much like all the others. None of them are very recent: those had been lost along with the compound, but to Nebula they’re all brand new. She looks at each one intently, her posture growing stiffer and stiffer by the minute, until Rhodey feels compelled to step closer and gently touch her shoulder. 

She doesn’t stiffen like she used to, far too accustomed to his touch. Her eyes are dark and shiny as she looks at him and says, "We found Gamora." 

Rhodey digests this for a moment. If it were a good thing, Nebula likely wouldn’t be here. "What happened?"

Nebula’s gaze grows impossibly darker. "She didn’t want to be found."

Rhodey sighs. "I’m sorry, Blue. I really am." He squeezes her shoulder. "How are the rest of the team?"

"Hurting. Quill is of no use to anyone right now. Thor took charge and flew to a leisure planet three days ago. I came here." Her gaze returns to the pictures. "I was almost halfway in my journey before I remembered."

She doesn’t need to say what she remembered: Rhodey already knows. It’s the same thing he struggles with every morning. It’s not so much that he forgets but more that he wishes it weren’t real to begin with, so he does his best to try and think of anything else. 

But Tony’s occupied so much space in his life for so long, it’s impossible to find a spot that he hasn’t touched in one way or another. 

That’s the nature of best friends after all, particularly those that never had a single ounce of social awareness and showed their love through incessant touches, over the top gestures and dumb nicknames. Only the first seventeen years of Rhodey’s life are untouched, but even then the name Tony Stark had been familiar, his face plastered on the front of magazines alongside Howard’s, wide-eyed and so young. 

And now, even when he’s gone, Tony still manages to find his way in. 

There’s suddenly too much grief in the room, a howling gale that buffets Rhodey from head to toe, stealing his breath away and pushing him into the nearby armchair. He inhales slowly through his nose, clenching his teeth to try and steady himself against the swell of fathomless _pain;_ a cruel kind of darkness that doesn’t ever seem to abate. 

He extends his legs, braces whirring faintly as they always do when in need of a little tweak, and leans back to rest his head against the cushions, taking another deep breath and angling his gaze towards Nebula. She looks back at him, an expression on her face that he recognises for one of sadness in the ever so slight downturn of her mouth and the tense line of her shoulders. 

"Sorry," he rasps. "Sorry."

"Don’t be. It’s pointless," Nebula replies, glancing back at the picture again. "It changes nothing."

"Things would be a hell of a lot easier if it did."

Nebula inclines her head. "Maybe."

Rhodey has said his fair share of sorries over the last few weeks, right from the moment he had lifted Tony’s lifeless body into his arms and carried him away, muttering tearful words against the still warm skin of his temple. He says it to Pepper each time she calls to invite him over and he declines; to Morgan when she says that she misses him, her little voice sweet over the phone; to Happy when another offer to stop by is turned down; he even said it last week to Peter when the kid called, voice polite and awkward as he asked if Rhodey would be up for meeting for a burger or something soon. 

Mostly, he says it to Tony in the middle of the night, up to the skies or into his pillow, over and over again until either the tears run dry or sleep finally grabs hold. 

"You’re in pain."

Rhodey snorts, his answering smile rueful. "Aren’t we all?"

"Tony wouldn’t want this."

"Tony didn’t want a lot of things," Rhodey snaps. "He didn’t want to spend his life living in fear, but he did because nobody fully believed him. Not - " his words stick in his throat and he brings a fist to his lips. "Not even me, for a long time, not until it was really too late. And now…" Rhodey offers her a helpless shrug. "Now he’s gone and we have to live with it." 

"This is _not_ living," Nebula hisses. "I went to see Pepper before I came here. I thought you would be there too but she told me that she hasn’t seen you for weeks.’’

"I’ve been busy. There was a whole mess with Wanda Maximoff and - " he swallows the nasty taste on his tongue, "and a former teammate. A friend called me in for help so I’ve not exactly had the time - "

Nebula’s glare turns almost deadly and Rhodey sighs, dropping his face into his hands for a moment. 

"I can’t face them," he murmurs, peering over his fingers with wet eyes. Goddamnit, he’s so sick of crying. "I - I try, I make it to the car, sometimes even start the engine...but then I think of Pepper, that look in her eye that she gets when she’s trying to be strong, or Morgan and how she looks _just_ like Tony - " He closes his eyes as the tears spill free. "It’s too much. All of it."

A minute or two passes, then a hand settles against his upper back, thin fingers tapping a barely there rhythm. 

"This won’t help you. Being alone is not the answer." Nebula’s hand contracts slightly. "Something I didn’t learn until I met Tony."

Rhodey thinks of the moment he first saw Nebula as she walked down the steps of a dead spaceship, a skeletal Tony clutched protectively to her side, and how he’d immediately known she wasn’t a threat. Steve had started to move towards them but Rhodey, nowhere near as fast but twice as desperate, had all but barged the man out of the way in his haste to get to Tony first, meeting the eyes of the strange blue woman for just a fraction of a second before she eased Tony into his arms. Tony had looked back, as though making sure she wasn’t going anywhere, and then collapsed into Rhodey, frail and exhausted and so broken that it was a wonder he didn’t just shatter into pieces there and then. 

"The kid," he’d gasped, "I lost the kid."

There had been no need to ask who Tony was talking about, and it was with a swelling grief of his own that Rhodey held his friend close, the two of them all but merging into one form as the gravity of the nightmare pressed down even harder upon them all. 

Even more devastation followed swiftly and it was within the ruins of the world that Rhodey found himself forging a connection with Nebula. Though his time was spent frequently on Earth, those five years took them on many missions together too: into dark pockets of the universe where help was desperately needed, to planets that had lost all the colour and vibrancy they once exuded through the stars, to worlds beyond all imagining.

Even when he wasn’t with them, Tony was still there. A hologram skipping across the deck of their ship with a baby Morgan snoozing against his shoulder; a voice overhead late at night when sleep was elusive; dumb messages sent full of rambling updates that always warmed Rhodey’s heart and made tiny smiles appear on Nebula’s face. 

And without fail, he was always there to greet them with a grin and a powerful hug whenever they returned. 

There’s no such greetings anymore. No big smiles, no hugs, no meaningful stares that spoke all the things they couldn’t bring themselves to say to each other but knew anyway. There’s only what’s left, and right now that’s Rhodey and Nebula, sitting in a grief-smeared silence that’s as heavy as a metal chain around their necks. 

"I’m sorry," he murmurs, twisting to look up at Nebula, who peers down at him with those dark, bottomless eyes of hers. "Sometimes...it’s like I forget that you lost someone else too.’’

Nebula regards him for a moment, then sighs. "I don’t pretend to understand my sister’s relationship with Quill, but I know that she loved him, and he loved her equally as much, yet sometimes it infuriates me that he also feels sorrow for her, that he mourns her like I do."

"Because you love her too."

"What I’m capable of, yes."

"You’re capable of a hell of a lot. You always have been."

Nebula’s gaze is almost fond as she looks at him again. "You sound like Tony."

Rhodey smiles, a mixture of fond and heartbroken. "Yeah, I’ve heard that before."

* * *

"D’you remember when we were kids and we’d stay with Gram and Gramps, and he’d take us out back to look through his telescope?"

A plate clatters loudly as it’s shoved far too harshly into the dishwasher. "Bringing up childhood memories is _not_ gonna make me like you right now."

"...What if I go out and buy you some chocolate?"

The dishwasher door slams hard, rattling the contents inside, and Rhodey gives something of a sheepish grimace as his sister rounds on him with a furious glare.

"You’re not funny. You don’t get to turn up here out of the blue after almost two months of radio silence and tell me that you’re - " Jeanette cuts herself off and drops her face into her hands, leaning against the kitchen counter with a long sigh. "You’re such an asshole sometimes, Jim."

Rhodey snorts. "I know. You’ve told me that a lot."

"And I mean it," Jeanette grumbles as she moves to sit next to him on one of the stools by the breakfast bar. She rests her chin on her fists and sighs again. "Why now?"

"I gotta do something. I can’t…can’t be here right now."

"Don’t you think this is a little extreme? When Mama passed away, you didn’t need to leave."

"Mama was sick for years," Rhodey says harshly. "Dad was already gone and she was just - just sitting there, riddled with cancer, waiting to go join him. It was - " he pauses for a moment, hating what he’s about to say but knowing it to be true. "It was a _relief_ and you know that as well as I do. This is _not_ the same thing."

"It’s dumb, is what it is," Jeanette bites back. "You think swanning off is gonna make any of it better? You’re just running away from your grief."

"So what if I am? That’s my decision to make."

"Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one out of the two of us? The rocket scientist, the genius boy who could go toe to toe with Tony Stark?"

" _Don’t - "_

"Why are you guys arguing?"

Rhodey and Jeanette both freeze, mouths open and twisted in snarls, and slowly turn to look at the teenage girl standing in the doorway. 

"Uncle Jim?"

Fixing the best imitation of a smile onto his face, Rhodey lifts an arm. "C’mere, goblin.”

"My name’s Lila, y’know," is the surly grumble he gets right before Lila hurries over and tucks herself against his side, the edge of her headphones knocking into his neck as they slip down from the soft twirls of her hair. "What’s going on?"

"Your uncle’s here to tell us he’s going away for a while," Jeanette says, all pointed accusation and bitterness in her tone. 

"Again?" Lila tilts her head back to look at Rhodey’s face properly. "I thought you retired?"

Jeanette scoffs. "He doesn’t know how to retire."

Rhodey closes his eyes for a moment. He’s used to this. It’s a classic Jeanette move after all: digging people out as a way of coping with whatever pain or misplaced betrayal she’s feeling. Her last stint in rehab a few years before the snap had brought out the very worst of her, and Rhodey hadn’t been above throwing her spite back in her face when it hit too close to home on occasion, something he still regrets even now. 

"Where you going?" Lila asks softly. "Can I come?"

"Hell no. What, and leave that awesome experiment you got going on in the garage?"

"S’just a robot."

"No just about it," Rhodey says. "I expect that thing to be fully functional by the time I get back, you hear?"

Lila’s face lights up with a grin. "Did I tell you what I named it?"

"Lila - " Jeanette starts. 

"Super Totally Awesome Robot Kid! Otherwise known as STARK." 

Rhodey’s heart does the thing where it bounces up into his throat and then plummets back down to lodge in between some of his ribs, thumping far too fast. 

"Y’know, ‘cause Tony left me that money - "

"I know, honey, I know. Just caught me off guard, that’s all." Rhodey runs a hand through her hair, giving a few of the curls a gentle tug to make them spring. "I’ll come check it out in a sec, okay? Just need a few more minutes with your mom."

Lila rolls her eyes but does as she’s asked, slipping her headphones back on as she leaves the room. Rhodey deflates as soon as she’s out of sight and gives a shaky laugh. 

"She’s really something."

Jeanette’s answering smile is small but exceptionally proud. "Gets it from you. God knows she doesn’t get anything good from me."

"She’s more like you than you think."

"She needs you," Jeanette insists, tears brimming in her brown eyes. _"_ _I_ need you."

Rhodey smiles. "You don’t need me, Jeanie. You haven’t for a long time."

"This changes things. This time I don’t know if you’re coming back or not."

For that, Rhodey doesn’t have an answer. All he can do is reach out and take her hand, squeezing it gently, and hope that it says enough. Jeanette stares at him, her gaze wide and wet, just like it always used to be back when she was a mess and could barely string two words together without begging for money or asking for another hit. 

Now she just looks defeated and sad; a little sister already missing her big brother before he’s even gone. 

When he pulls her into a hug, she grips him tight, her skinny arms winding around his neck like long pieces of twine. 

"You be safe."

"I will."

"I mean it."

"I’ve done this plenty of times, you know. I’ll be fine."

"If you get shot by an alien, I’m coming up there to kick your ass."

"Why _my_ ass?" he laughs into her hair. "Why not the alien’s ass?"

"Because you’re the one dumb enough to get shot by the alien, that’s why."

"Yeah," Rhodey hugs her all the more tighter. "Makes sense."

He stays a little while longer to check out Lila’s robot. 

"He’s gonna be an assistant bot," Lila explains. "Like maybe out on the battlefield, he can help medics. Or maybe in hospitals, he’s young so he can bond with kids and distract them when they’re having treatment," she adds thoughtfully, leaving a smear of oil on her face as she rubs her cheek. "Haven’t decided which yet.” 

STARK beeps bossily when Rhodey’s foot gets in the way, and it’s in Lila’s hair that Rhodey hides his tears as he hugs her close and tells her that he’s so proud and that one day, she’s going to change the world. 

* * *

"You’re doing _what?"_

Rhodey sets his coffee down and gives Sam a pointed look. "C’mon, man, don’t make this any harder than it has to be."

"Me?" Sam exclaims, looking over to where Bucky sits reading in a nearby armchair by the rain splattered window. "Are you hearing this?"

"In his defense, this is exactly why I didn’t tell you that I knew what Steve was up to when he took the stones back," Bucky says, turning a page. "You get all honourable and protective."

"Oh, like those are bad things?"

Bucky shrugs. "Makes a change from you being an asshole, I guess."

Sam reaches into the ugly fruit bowl sitting in the centre of the table and launches an orange at Bucky, who catches it in his metal hand without looking and immediately throws it back, missing Sam’s head by a fraction.

Rhodey watches the exchange with a tight chest, the familiarity of it painful but comforting. In an instant, it’s him and Tony, scrabbling about their apartment back in Boston, hurling rolled up socks and half eaten pancakes at each other as they bicker about whose turn it is to vacuum. 

A well aimed apple striking Bucky in the bicep puts an end to the argument as Sam flips him the bird and then says to Rhodey, "But space? Really? You haven’t had your fill of it by now?"

"Guess not."

Sam studies him carefully. "Running away isn’t the answer. You know that."

Rhodey takes another sip of coffee. "Yeah, I do. I also know that staying here right now isn’t the answer. Not for me."

"You know," Sam says thoughtfully, sitting back in his chair, "when I lost Riley, I couldn’t think about him. Wouldn’t let myself think about him, or even look at a picture because the sight of his face made me sick to my stomach."

A slight shift of movement out of the corner of Rhodey’s eye tells him that Bucky is listening to this too. 

"I didn’t dream about his death, about him, until the first anniversary. It was hell. Night after night, memory after memory, some good, some bad…" Sam sighs, reaching out to fiddle with the handle of his own coffee mug. "Things changed when I came home and started working at the VA. Didn’t fix it by any means but...it helped. It helped me a lot."

Rhodey glances over to where he knows the photo of Sam and Riley sits in a frame beside one of Bucky and Steve from back in the day. It’s strange having people that understand, who have their own experiences of losing the person that they were never truly prepared to lose despite always knowing it was a high possibility. 

Somehow it helps, and yet it doesn’t, because despite what he knows, the grief Rhodey is carrying feels too incomprehensible for anyone to go through, so how can anyone truly understand?

It’s a foolish, ridiculous, selfish thought and he knows it’s all over his face from the way Sam’s smile turns sad and knowing. 

"I know, man. I get it."

Another look at Bucky reveals a similar expression, worn and tired and resigned, stained with a sorrow that can never be truly erased no matter how much time goes by. 

Rhodey coughs, swallows the lump in his throat and says, "So I take it that’s your blessing for me to go?"

Sam rolls his eyes as he leans over and claps him firmly on the shoulder. "Just as long as you don’t forget to write."

"You got it, Sammy."

It’s Bucky who sees him out, lingering in the doorway in a way that tells Rhodey that there’s something he wants to say. 

"I never got to talk to him about what happened properly," he says as soon as Rhodey meets his gaze. "That day in Siberia…Steve was my friend, the most loyal guy I’ve ever known next to Sam - but he was wrong."

"He was trying to protect you."

Bucky shakes his head. "Doesn’t matter. What he did - what _I did - "_

"Would you have reacted differently?" Rhodey asks, folding his arms. "If it had been Steve who killed Howard and Maria, wouldn’t you have done the same thing?"

Bucky looks away, glaring at the wall. 

"I would have," Rhodey admits. "We all know that Steve should have told Tony what happened, but even Tony understood deep down why he didn’t."

"That’s no excuse for what happened - "

"No, and to be honest, if I’d been there with him in Siberia, I don’t think you’d be standing here now. Steve certainly wouldn’t have walked away."

It’s not something Rhodey has said out loud before to anybody except Pepper on the night Tony was recovering in hospital, a fractured sternum being one of the many injuries he’d returned home with. It’s a dark, vengeful awareness, born out of the part of Rhodey that doesn’t know mercy as well as he’d like. He’d long gotten over the fierceness of his outrage by the time Tony went missing in space, but there’s no denying that it ever existed in the first place, or the fact that things could have ended far more tragically that day if the circumstances had been different. 

Now, standing here with Bucky, it all feels like such a horrific waste. 

"He forgave Steve," Rhodey says when he feels confident his voice won’t crack. "And he knew that it wasn’t you who killed his parents. He might not have said so, but he knew, and that was enough for him. Can that be enough for you?"

Bucky blinks, an old kind of war raging in the blues of his eyes, then slowly nods. "Guess it’ll have to be."

"Yeah."

They stand quietly together for a moment, then Rhodey extends his hand. Bucky blinks at it for a moment, chancing a cautious glance at his face, then reaches out to take it, shaking slowly and firmly. 

"You take care, James."

"Yeah. You too," Bucky says, offering him a glimmer of a smirk. "James."

"Wow," Sam calls from inside the apartment. "That was intense, guys. No, seriously, I think I felt the ground shift beneath my feet, it was that symbolic."

Bucky’s smirk stretches into something of a more long-suffering grimace. "Excuse me while I go kill him."

He lets go of Rhodey’s hand and stalks back into the apartment, pushing the door closed behind him. Rhodey lingers long enough to hear Sam laughing, followed by a crash and Bucky cursing in Russian, then makes his way towards the stairs with a shake of his head. 

* * *

There’s snow on the ground when Rhodey pulls into the front yard of the cabin. A glimmer of frost touches everything, all the trees and furnishings on the porch glistening in the pale grey of the morning, the Christmas lights in the window blinking in colourful bursts. 

Tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, Rhodey blinks twice before looking over towards the lake. It’s murky today, so very far from the sparkling blue it had been when he’d last been here. 

The atmosphere of the place sinks heavily into him as he steps out of the car, like the air itself is scarred with pockmarks of absence, stretched thin to cover the holes left behind by Tony. Even the cabin looks less inviting than it ever did, no longer warm and welcoming but haunting, a fact that pierces Rhodey’s heart like a red hot barb. 

This place was always meant to be a sanctuary, a fortress of solitude Tony had called it when he brought Rhodey to look at it, a pregnant and exhausted Pepper sleeping in the car as they walked around the land, discussing where a treehouse could go and whether an alpaca or a pig would fit in more with the charming, woodland aesthetic. 

Now, it feels like anything but. 

With stiff steps and an aching spine, Rhodey makes his way towards the cabin. The front door opens as he reaches the top of the porch stairs and Pepper appears, her brow crinkled in disbelief. 

Rhodey pauses, unsure of what to say, but no sooner does he murmur a hoarse, "Pepper," does she step forward and hug him. 

"God, you’re such an idiot," she breathes, squeezing him tight. 

She’s lost weight, Rhodey notices, the sharpness of her shoulder blades digging into the underside of his arms as he wraps them around her. "I’m sorry."

"Don’t be. I’ve heard enough sorries to last me a lifetime, just - I’m just glad you’re here."

The door creaks open wider behind her, and Peter’s head cautiously pokes out. 

"Hey, Mister - I mean, Colonel Rhodes," he says somewhat sheepishly, giving a little wave. "Good to see you."

Over Peter’s head, Rhodey catches a glimpse of more familiar faces, and smiles wearily. "You too, kid."

There’s so much welcome waiting for him inside, and yet Rhodey feels as though he’s walking across cracked ice, poised to fall into a cold abyss at any moment. He doesn’t deserve such decency, not when he’s been hiding away, leaving them to carry more of the grief than they should. 

But there’s a tiny beacon of comfort too, one that he accepts greedily despite his guilt. He welcomes Happy’s strong hug, returns May’s kind smile and shares a long look with Nebula before taking a seat in his usual chair, the one next to the fireplace. 

He doesn’t mention the decorations, the presents sitting under the tree, the obvious fact that it’s a full house because everybody is here to stay for the holidays. 

"Where’s Morgan?"

"With Dum-E," Pepper says, a wistful smile pulling at her lips as Rhodey raises an eyebrow. "She didn’t want him to be on his own. FRIDAY is keeping an eye on them."

"I can go tell her you’re here," Peter offers, pointing towards the door.

"No, that’s okay," Rhodey waves his hand. "I’ll talk to her later. It’s - well, it’s probably good that you’re all here actually."

Curiosity sweeps the room, leaving Peter scrabbling to sit down beside May, eyes wide with interest. Only Nebula remains unaffected, though she makes a point of coming to sit closer too, perching beside Pepper on the arm of the couch. 

A million different words rise and die on Rhodey’s tongue. He’s been dreading this, so much so that he hasn’t let himself think about it hardly at all, already far too riddled with guilt as it is. Years of speaking publicly, following protocol and winging it whilst looking good do absolutely nothing for him now, and it’s somehow the biggest giveaway of all for what’s he about to do, if Pepper’s sharp intake of breath is anything to go by. 

"Where are you going?"

"Space."

Pepper nods slowly. "For how long?"

Rhodey glances at Nebula. "I don’t know."

"You can’t be serious," Happy says. "I can’t even get you to return my damn calls and all of a sudden you’re jumping ship with Smurfette over here?" He twists his head towards Nebula. "No offense."

"None taken."

May moving her arm over Peter’s shoulders draws Rhodey’s attention to the clenched expression on the kid’s face, an odd mix of angry and sad, too close to a look of rejection. Rhodey doesn’t know Peter that well, a regret he’s been carrying ever since the first snap, but the fact that Tony loved him so much had filtered into Rhodey on some level, instilling a sense of responsibility that he can’t quite deal with, familiar as it may feel. 

"You can’t just skip out like this."

"I’m not skipping out," Rhodey sighs, palming a hand across his eyes. 

"What do you want to call it then?" Happy asks bitterly.

"Happy." Pepper’s tone is calm but exhausted, verging on something that sounds far too close to disappointed. "Let him talk."

"He’s said enough," Happy huffs and stalks towards the door, throwing it open and storming outside.

A cold, tense silence follows. 

"I’ll go," May offers after a minute, starting to rise up from her seat. 

"No," Rhodey shakes his head. "Thanks but, better he and I do this now instead of later."

He avoids all of their gazes as he stands, the guilt sitting heavily in his gut. This was never going to be easy, he knew that, and yet he feels even more unprepared than he expected to. 

"Don’t even think of trying to explain," Happy grumbles as soon as Rhodey joins him out on the porch. "There’s nothing you can say."

"Didn’t you drop all this stubborn hothead stuff back when you quit boxing?" Rhodey retorts sharply, earning himself a livid glare. "If you really want us to trade punches like a couple of idiots then - "

"Like you and Tony did back in Malibu?"

Now it’s Rhodey’s turn to glare. "What do you want from me, man?"

"I want you to realise that this isn’t just about you," Happy barks. "You think you’re the only one grieving, struggling to get out of bed in the morning? Well, let me tell you, you’re not."

"You don’t need to tell me that."

"Oh, yeah? How about that there’s a little girl that isn’t only grieving for her dad, but also wondering why her uncle isn’t around anymore? Do I need to tell you that?"

 _"No,"_ Rhodey all but snarls. "No, Hap, you don’t."

"Then what are you _doing?"_

The hitch in Happy’s voice catches Rhodey off guard. He watches the fury on the other man’s face melt a little, morphing into a recognisable sadness that he finds painful to look at. Sighing softly, Rhodey moves to stand beside Happy, leaning against the porch rail to try and ease some of the fuzzy discomfort building in his lower back. Their breath swirls together in white bursts of cloud in front of them as they look out towards the lake. 

"I’m not trying to hurt anyone," Rhodey eventually murmurs.

"That doesn’t mean you’re not going to," Happy counters. "Morgan needs you. So does Pepper. Don’t you think they’ve been through enough?"

Frustration, unkind and unfair, fizzles in Rhodey’s chest. Through all the chaos over the years, he never considered he would be in a position like this. Sure, it was an unspoken promise that should anything happen to anyone, the others would be there for whoever was left, but that didn’t make any of this easier: didn’t make the reality of that promise any more palatable. It’s always been part of Rhodey’s nature to simply be there _;_ unfaltering, unshakable, unbreakable as Tony had once called him during one of his more difficult days in recovery when the effort of simply putting one leg in front of the other was too much. 

He almost feels like an imposter standing here, like that person doesn’t exist anymore, and the person left in his place is a lackluster copy, weak and crumbling and unable to honour that gigantic unspoken promise. 

"You know, I spent so many years of my life worrying about Tony, worrying if my best friend was gonna wind up dead from an overdose or from alcohol poisoning. Then he disappeared from right under my nose and I spent three months searching the desert for him because I refused to believe he was dead."

"I remember," Happy says slowly. "I was there."

"Then it was Iron Man and it didn’t matter a damn bit if he was wrapped up in a suit of armor, I still worried, still watched with the rest of the world as he flew a nuke into space and defended the earth from a bunch of fucking aliens," Rhodey continues, suddenly feeling like the air isn’t coming fast enough into his lungs. "And now, he’s gone. He died right in front of me and there wasn’t anything I could do. All that worrying and I couldn’t - "

Happy’s hand lands roughly on his shoulder. "Hey, none of that is your fault - "

"Then why does it feel like it?" Rhodey gasps, shoving the hand away, unable to accept the comfort. "Why does it feel like I didn’t do enough? Why does this feel like my responsibility? How am I supposed to look his wife and daughter in the face with all of that going on?"

"So, what, you think going for a vacation _with_ the aliens is gonna make you feel differently?"

"I don’t know. I don’t know but…" There’s a horrible stinging sensation in Rhodey’ eyes as he turns to look at Happy again. "I feel like I hate him right now, Hap. You know? And that isn’t fair."

Fair to who, he doesn’t say, but he doesn’t need to because he can see a reluctant understanding appearing on Happy’s face now, sad and tired. They’ve been friends for so long, weathered so much chaos and shared so many laughs together; it seems wrong to hold a shred of animosity towards one another for something neither of them can truly control. 

"I’m sorry," Rhodey says softly. "I am."

Happy sighs, giving him a glare that holds no heat. "Never was any point in arguing with you." 

"You’re one to talk."

Happy smiles briefly, then points a finger threateningly. "You gotta promise me you’re coming back though."

The _I can’t lose anyone else_ part of that demand isn’t said out loud, but it’s loud and clear all the same. 

"Of course I am," Rhodey says, though he knows that Happy doesn’t completely believe it any more than he does himself. 

"Don’t think I’m helping you tell Morgan. You’re on your own for that one."

Rhodey nods. "Figured as much." He holds out his hand to shake. "You’ll take care of them?"

Happy, in a gesture that catches Rhodey by surprise, pulls him into a brief hug. "It’s all I know how to do."

It’s with slow steps that Rhodey heads towards the garage to find Morgan, the crunch of his feet loud in the fallen snow. How the hell is he supposed to explain any of this to a five year old? 

He remembers hearing his mother once say that bad news should always be told in the sunshine. Not in the quiet of night perched on edges of beds, not when hours upon hours will be spent staring up at blank ceilings with thoughts running riot, but when there is warmth on the skin and light in the world strong enough to banish just a little bit of the dark. For years, Rhodey had believed this philosophy; believed that things would be easier this way. 

But dawn had been breaking the last time he looked into Tony’s eyes, the first frail gleams of a new day creeping up over the wreckage of the battlefield, the world finally free of its nightmares at last, and the pain had been as unbearable then as it has been every night ever since. 

"Do you want more tea, Dum-E?" Morgan’s voice says as Rhodey pushes open the garage door. There’s a soft answering beep, a giggle, then the clattering of something plastic hitting the ground. "Whoops."

Rhodey clenches his hand around the edge of the door as he looks around. The place looks no different than the last time he was here: gardening equipment stacked to one side, the lawnmower that Tony affectionately called Dierdre tucked under a sheet in the far corner, and the workshop space a mix of organised chaos and half finished projects scattered across benches and cluttered desks. 

It smells of oil and metal; like excitement and comfort merged into one, and it drives a fresh spike of hurt right through Rhodey’s gut, right beside the lingering weight of guilt. 

Dum-E’s curious trill alerts Morgan to his presence and Rhodey meets her gaze as she turns to look at him. Her face remains eerily unreadable for a moment, the barest hint of a frown showing in the crinkle between her eyebrows. 

Rhodey gestures to the pink plastic teapot by her feet. "You got any for me?"

Morgan nods and tips the teapot towards a small green cup as Rhodey walks over to join her. He gives Dum-E a few firm pats on his claw, closing his eyes as the bot prods gently at his cheek, then takes a seat, muffling his groan as his braces shift a little too far, another reminder that he needs to do some maintenance. 

He accepts the cup that Morgan silently hands him and takes a loud sip from it, smacking his lips like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. It’s quickly abandoned when Morgan crawls into his lap and clings to him with all the ferocity of a baby koala, pressing her face into his chest with a quiet little sob. All explanations wither away in the back of Rhodey’s throat, the guilt overruling everything else as he holds her tight, knowing that he’ll be leaving her soon. 

It hurts. Hurts worse than the blink and miss it burn through his spine as he hit the ground; worse than the first attempt at walking with the braces nothing but a cumbersome weight pulling him down; worse than waking up surrounded by debris and gushing water with a frantic Bruce and Rocket yelling beside him. 

"I’m sorry," Rhodey whispers. "I’m so sorry, baby."

He doesn’t say what for, and Morgan doesn’t ask. 

  
  


* * *

Pepper arrives minutes before Rhodey and Nebula are due to take off the next evening. 

"What - " Rhodey starts, only to find himself silenced by one of her famous _shut the hell up and listen_ stares. 

"You are going to call," she says, placing her hands on his shoulders, "and you are not going to get yourself killed. Understand?"

It’s as much of a blessing as he’s ever going to get, and it’s more than Rhodey feels he deserves. But years of experience have taught him that only a fool, or Tony Stark, argues with Pepper Potts, so he merely nods in agreement. 

"Good." Pepper looks over his shoulder to where he knows Nebula is standing. "You take care of each other."

"We will," Nebula promises solemnly.

There’s a very small smile on Pepper’s face as she looks at Rhodey again, tears brimming in her blue eyes. "You know, part of me wishes I was going to. I only got one true go in my suit and something tells me I’d get more chances up there."

Something simultaneously loosens and tightens in Rhodey’s chest. "You did kick ass."

"Damn right I did."

They share a weak laugh, full of too many unsaid things, and then Rhodey finds himself pulling her close, her hair tickling his nose as he hugs her. 

"Be safe, Rhodey," she murmurs in his ear.

As far as goodbyes go, Rhodey has had far worse. 

Fifteen minutes later, he’s sat beside Nebula on the flight deck of the ship, everything primed and ready. It’s her own ship, one that she had acquired for her solo trip back to Earth, but the design is familiar enough for Rhodey to settle in easily. He doesn’t comment when he unplugs the clearly stolen Zune to plug in his own device; he figures Quill probably did something to deserve it. 

Nebula only spares him a glance to check that he’s ready before engaging the controls and taking them up, higher and higher into the atmosphere, the grey skies turning black and star-speckled outside the window. As they prepare to make the jump to who knows where, Rhodey hits a button on the console of his chair to turn on the music. 

"This one?" Nebula huffs as soon as she hears the song. "Really?"

"Can’t knock a classic," Rhodey says, closing his eyes as they hurtle forward through flares and swirls of cosmic colours into the deeper depths of space, the opening theme to _Star Wars_ echoing loudly all around them.

* * *

A gunfight breaks out two days in, on a planet with no sun, seconds after they close a deal with a shady merchant for a few weapon parts. Rhodey thought the guy looked suspect, even without the shifty three eyes and the shrunken head hanging round a long neck, but he didn’t expect to end up running for it with orange plasma blasts flying over his head. 

There're plenty of crooks hanging around and they waste no time in joining in, using the chaos as a chance to gain the upper hand in whatever bad deal or botched hired hit is going down, and soon the air is full of nothing but screaming and shooting. 

Nebula is a good few paces ahead of Rhodey and it’s as she turns to aim a shot of her own that he feels his braces seize. He’d decided to forgo the suit and just take one of her spare guns instead, wanting to get his own feet on the ground for once, and it’s a decision he regrets as topples over. He twists at the last minute, pulling into an awkward side dive that leaves his hands free to return fire, the feel of the gun as comfortable in his grasp. 

He manages to stun a couple of shooters before Nebula’s got him under the arms and is heaving upwards, manhandling him as though he weighs nothing, which to her he probably doesn’t. 

It’s only when she drags him into a nearby alcove, tucked back far enough to keep them well hidden, that Rhodey realises that he’s laughing. 

It’s a good feeling. Startling, strange, but good; just enough to ward off the guilt for now. 

"Idiot," Nebula snaps. "I told you to wear your suit."

"Yeah, yeah you did," Rhodey chuckles. "And you were right, I’m sorry, I just - just needed to try it, you know?”

"You’re fortunate they all had terrible aim," Nebula grouses, kicking him what he assumes to be gently in the foot. "What’s the matter with your legs?"

"They need maintenance." Rhodey taps one of the frames on his left brace. "It’s been a while."

A stray blaster shot bounces off the ground nearby. Nebula ignores it in favour of kneeling down to poke around his knees. 

"Hey!" he grumbles halfheartedly. "Watch it, Blue."

"Are you going to be able to walk?"

"Sure. You just gotta give me a couple of minutes." He pats the ground. "Why don’t you take a load off?"

"Idiot," Nebula says again, but eases herself down to sit beside him nonetheless.

* * *

"What the hell is this?"

Nebula frowns. "Food?"

Rhodey prods at the thick, fluorescent orange noodles sitting in the bowl in front of him. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"How can a place as beautiful as this," Rhodey gestures to the lush forestry surrounding them, "have food that looks like it’s got radiation poisoning?"

Nebula rolls her eyes, lips twitching. "You said you were hungry. It was either this or more of those dried rations you love."

"Hey, don’t talk to me about dry rations. I was in the air force, you don’t know what I’ve seen."

"Do you ever shut up?" Nebula says, shovelling noodles into her mouth. 

Rhodey narrows his eyes at her. "You can’t possibly tell me those taste good."

Nebula shrugs. "Why don’t you find out?"

"Fine. But if these taste bad, I’m picking the next destination."

Without waiting for an answer, Rhodey slurps some of the noodles down. The spicy heat of them hits the back of his throat like a flamethrower and he immediately splutters, coughing loudly while Nebula laughs quietly in sadistic triumph. 

"You’re evil," he rasps, "absolutely evil."

Then Tony’s voice is in his head. 

_"Why did you let me eat that - my mouth is on FIRE!"_

_"Oh, shut up, Tones, it’s just a little chili - "_

_"A little? My tongue is gonna fall out - gimme that milk you asshole - "_

Rhodey breaks out of the memory with a shake of his head, breathing rapidly, throat still burning. He shoves the food away quickly, almost knocking over his drink and earning a startled look from Nebula. 

"Are you - "

"Fine, I’m fine," he waves a hand. "Just - not hungry anymore."

* * *

It’s easier to slip into their old routine than Rhodey imagined it would be. Though there’s less obvious turmoil consuming the many planets and star systems out there than there was before, they don’t struggle to find those still in need in one way or another. 

Their first few jobs are simple retrieval missions that go off without a hitch. They move perfectly in sync with one another, as easy as retracing old footsteps along familiar paths, like they never stopped. 

They visit a couple of familiar planets and settlements, seeking out faces they know from their previous travels, swapping stories and making the odd trade for information or resources here and there. One night sees Rhodey drunker than he’s been since freshman year, teaching a packed bar full of aliens how to sing _Bohemian Rhapsody_ with all the necessary vocal effects. Nebula doesn’t try to stop him and laughs far too much when he spends the following day groaning miserably into a bucket. 

The knots that Rhodey feels he’s been tied up in for so long loosen slightly, letting him breath. The crushing weight is still there, the numbness that never fully seems to render him completely cold, but he can push it aside somehow; push back against the grief as it rears up in defiance, desperate to consume him all over again. 

Sometimes it’s fine. It’s bearable, just a glitch in the back of his mind. 

It’s loudest when he’s alone on the ship, on the bridge unable to sleep, staring out into the fathomless stretch of space outside the window. In those moments, the temptation to give in to it all is near overwhelming, like a toxin staining his blood, inching closer to his heart. 

When Nebula is with him, awake to avoid her own nightmares, her soft voice poking fun at him for one reason or another, it doesn’t feel so bad. 

* * *

"Wake up."

Rhodey jerks awake at Nebula’s voice, head lifting up with a squint. "Wha’?"

"Lila is trying to contact you."

Rhodey’ heart does a little lurch. "Lila?"

"On the coded message channel," Nebula says. "I assume there is nobody else who calls you Uncle Jim?"

"That sounds so weird when you say it," Rhodey grumbles, sitting up with a groan and reaching for his braces. "I didn’t even know she knew how to contact me that way."

"She’s sent you six messages in the last hour."

“And you’re just waking me up now?" Rhodey laughs, rubbing one eye. 

Nebula’s expression twitches into something softer. "You’ve been crying in your sleep. I thought you might appreciate the rest after you stopped."

There’s a sun burning Rhodey up somewhere in his ribs, cold water being poured over his head, something prying him apart right down the middle because it hurts, it hurts and he hasn’t been thinking about it all day every day, because he makes himself not think about it, but it still hurts, deep and rooted and knife-sharp - 

"Rhodey?"

Rhodey takes a deep breath, so hard that it makes his throat ache. "I’m good, I’m good."

Nebula’s blank stare tells him that she doesn’t believe him at all, but she thankfully says nothing and leaves him be. Rhodey finishes attaching his braces and heads for the common area. He finds the light above the coded message channel blinking erratically and ducks down to read the messages, smiling when he sees ramblings about STARK and movies he’s yet to watch but apparently needs to. 

_"It’s so cool, Uncle Jim,"_ Lila gushes when he calls her a little while later from the flight deck, after much fiddling with the comm frequencies. _"His rate of learning is getting faster every week. I even installed a small suction motor in his arm so he can vacuum. Only little things but Mom doesn’t mind having him in the house so much now."_

"So he’s part Roomba?"

_"He’s so much better than a Roomba!"_

Rhodey laughs. "I sure hope so, kiddo."

* * *

He thinks about Nat a lot. 

After all, the last time he’d seen her was in space, back in time on Morag where they had shared a hug goodbye. 

So much of him wishes he’d just held on to her, made her stay, found another way. 

Any glimpse of red hair is a guaranteed sucker punch, and sometimes a face in the crowd will look too much like hers for a split second until he looks again with foolish, fleeting hope. 

He finds himself often replaying past conversations in his head when he can’t sleep, remembering the secret little messages she and Sam would send him when they were on the run. Strings of sandwich emojis, snippets of songs they used to listen to during training while they competed and ribbed each other for hours, pictures of dumb stuffed animals or strangely shaped food: it wouldn’t make sense to anyone else, barely made sense to him at the time but it was just enough to know they were okay, somewhere out there. 

What he wouldn't give to have just one of those messages from Nat again is more than he can truly comprehend. 

* * *

When the paper football hits Nebula on the cheek the first time, she merely mutters, "oh my god," beneath her breath and knocks it back across the table, resuming sharpening her blade without so much as a look in Rhodey’s direction. 

The second time earns him a glare. 

The third time, she tosses the blade and tool aside, assumes the standard playing position and flicks the football back across. Rhodey mimics her stance just in time for her shot to land, then takes his own. The little silver triangle bounces back and forth across the table, shots landing as much as they sail wide, their laughs of triumph and hisses of defeat mixing in with the changing playlist of music humming through the ship. 

"Much as I hate to admit it," Rhodey sighs after yet another lost round, "you’re far better than me."

"Obviously. I’m better than you at many things."

"Oh, like that is it?"

Nebula smirks. "Supposedly I learnt from the best."

The atmosphere in the room changes instantly, comparable almost to being plunged into a bucket of cold water. 

And yet Rhodey can still breathe; can still remain standing even as he meets Nebula’s sad, slightly panicked gaze across the table.

"Look sharp, Blue," he murmurs, and leans down to fire another shot. 

* * *

He’s toyed with the decision to call Pepper every day since he left. 

Part of him longs fiercely to hear her voice. The other part wants to shrivel up in a dark corner. 

She’s his friend, and has been for so long that it’s strange remembering a time when she wasn’t. He misses her, and that feeling hangs on him like heavy chains. 

But it’s got nothing on the guilt. 

Rhodey wonders for the hundredth time what Morgan and Pepper are doing right this minute; if they’ve found a moment of reprieve, or maybe it’s a bad day where not a single thing can alleviate the darkness. 

Either way, he isn’t there with them and it’s wrong, so wrong on so many levels that it’s unbearable to even try to compute.

Rhodey doesn’t call. 

He sees Nat in his daydreams, arms folded, eyebrow raised, giving him that _look_ : the one full of sassy judgement that only a friend can give. 

He doesn’t sleep for three days. 

* * *

"I spoke to Pepper."

Rhodey chokes on his drink, coughing harshly and spraying purple droplets everywhere. Wheezing, he looks over at where Nebula is standing in the doorway. "What?"

"I spoke to Pepper."

"No, I got that, I meant - "

"She’s okay."

Even though he’s sitting down, Rhodey finds himself gripping the table for support. "Yeah?"

Nebula nods. "Morgan wanted to know if we’d seen any space whales."

"...Do those exist?"

"I hope so because I told her we’d bring her one."

Rhodey drops his face into his hands with a weak chuckle. "You’re a real soft touch, anyone ever tell you that?"

"Once or twice." 

There’s no need to ask who. Lifting his gaze to meet hers, Rhodey murmurs, "Is she really okay?"

Nebula sits down in the vacant chair on the opposite end of the table. "I don’t know a lot about how terrans grieve their loved ones."

"Much like space people, I guess."

"Your traditions are much more emotional than many of the ones I know, but yes, the mechanics of grief seem similar."

"Meaning?"

"Pepper sounded sad but...functional."

Clear as day, Rhodey can see Pepper in his head. She looks like she did during the time her and Tony took a break: her smile genuine but tired, a dim light in her blue eyes that can’t quite conceal the sorrow she’s carrying inside, a strange kind of brittleness in the way she stands that only those who know her best will notice. 

She’s always been stronger than most, seemingly capable of the near impossible at times, and Rhodey’s never envied anyone who got on the wrong side of her, but there’s a gentle kind of vulnerability to her too, the part of her that had taken a chance on Tony all those years ago. But all that strength, all that boldness, it can only stand up so much against the pressure of loss. 

An empty space in a bed that’s now far too big, objects left in places with the intention of picking them up again, vacant chairs at the table, long quiet nights and a never ending sea of firsts to try and swim through after already dealing with so many. 

Rhodey remembers the first night. It hadn’t even been a full twenty-four hours. He’d only managed a shower and was wearing some of Tony’s clothes, sweatpants and a threadbare MIT sweater that might have been his own once upon a time before Tony stole it. He sat out on the porch with Pepper and Happy, Morgan asleep in his arms, and they watched the sky turn from starry black to the delicate brush strokes of a sunrise. 

They’d cried then, the three of them together, long and silent until the sun peeked over the trees, no better for having survived the first full day in a world without Tony. If anything, the pain felt worse than before. 

Rhodey wonders how many times Pepper has done that since he stopped coming round, since he left. Or does she feel like he does; on edge, hollowed out, raw and jagged and exhausted by it all?

If he’d stayed, he’d know for sure. 

Rhodey doesn’t realise he’s stopped breathing until there’s a faint tugging sensation in his back, the only indication he ever gets of something going on in his legs these days. He looks down with a gasp to find Nebula jiggling some kind of screwdriver into one of the brackets of his left brace. 

"What are you doing?"

"Doing the maintenance you’ve been avoiding since we got up here."

"You can’t just start _jabbing_ me with stuff while I’m - "

Nebula pauses and looks up at him, eyes dark and wide. "It was either that or watch you wallow."

Rhodey sighs, knowing he can’t argue with that. He holds out a hand and she hands him the screwdriver, then plucks another one out of her pocket. Between them, they get the braces off and onto the table, grabbing tools from the many stashes they have nearby to start fixing them up. 

"You promise she’s okay?" Rhodey asks two electrical burns and one very complex schematic later. 

Nebula eventually nods. "As much as any of us can be."

* * *

A few weeks later, or whatever is it in terms of time on whatever planet they happen to be on, they inadvertently find themselves part of a rescue mission alongside a group of young pirates. They’re a friendly crowd, if slightly bloodthirsty, and are immensely grateful for the help in getting their crewmate back from what turns out to be a rather vicious gangster, complete with sharp teeth and the body density of a gelatinous cube. 

He gets one good shot at Rhodey, plasma fire bouncing off the back of his shoulder, but otherwise everything goes smoothly. The hostage, a rather human looking guy compared to his friends, is all bumbling energy and bright enthusiasm, reminding Rhodey instantly of Peter. 

Once they say their goodbyes and Rhodey has kicked the dink out of his suit, he finds himself sitting in his chair on the flight deck putting through a call. 

_" - and that’s for kicking me in the - oh, hello? Hello?"_

"Hi, Peter."

_"Colonel Rhodes? Is that - REALLY? YOU’RE THROWING TREES NOW?"_

Rhodey winces at the sound of loud crashing and blaring car horns. "Is now a bad time?"

_"No! No, no, not at all, just gimme one sec - OW! Dude, the hell is your problem - "_

More crashing follows, accompanied by some very creative cursing, and then everything goes dead silent. 

"Peter? You there?"

Nothing.

"Peter!"

 _"I’m here!"_ a breathless, strained voice answers after a horrendously long minute. _"I’m here, just - woo, gotta catch my breath a little - shit - "_

"I take it you got the guy."

 _"Lizard guy,"_ Peter corrects. _"And yeah, left him webbed to the top of a police cruiser."_

"All in a day’s work, huh?"

Peter chuckles through a soft hiss of pain. _"Yeah. So...how’s space?"_

"Spacey."

_"Wow, that was terrible."_

Rhodey grins. "Yeah, well, the humor is a little weird up here."

_"Where are you?"_

"The hell if I know, kid. A whole life in the Air Force and you think I’d be able to read every map and navigational system anywhere, but it’s still enough to confuse me. Last planet we went to was Contraxia to chase up a deal and uh, yeah, that’s an interesting place."

 _"Quill told me about that one, I think. The place with all the, uh...the place that’s like a…”_ Peter coughs twice, " _pleasure planet?"_

Rhodey rubs a hand over his face. "Yep, yeah, that would be the one."

_"Huh."_

A silence descends, not entirely awkward but one that makes Rhodey want to laugh, let loose the warmth fizzing in his chest. 

_"Colonel Rhodes?"_

"Peter, much as I admire your impeccable manners, d’you think you could just call me Rhodey? Almost everyone else does.’’

_"Oh! Yeah, yeah, sure, I can do that if you want."_

Rhodey snorts. "It’s more or less been my name since I was eighteen so yeah, if you wouldn’t mind." 

_"Okay. Rhodey?"_

"Yeah?"

_"I’m...I’m really glad you called."_

"Same. So what else is new? That octopus guy shown his face lately?"

_"Nah, but me and Ned started building a Lego Star Destroyer, it’s like four thousand pieces and we’ve already messed it up twice - "_

Rhodey leans back in his chair, smirking at the ceiling as Peter talks away, and for a moment feels just a little bit lighter. 

* * *

Feeling Nebula’s gaze on him isn’t an unusual thing, but on this particular day, it feels different. 

Chopping some yaro root into a bowl, he gives her a curious smile. "Something wrong?"

"Your hair."

"What about it?"

"It’s...bigger."

Rhodey lifts a hand automatically, fingers running across his hair. It’s not much longer than his normal style, but the extra inch or two makes all the difference, standing straight up in tight curls. 

"Yeah, guess it is."

He’s barely been giving much thought to his appearance of late, but upon running his hands through his hair more thoroughly, he finds that it’s drier than he would like, but short of smearing engine grease or mashed yaro into it, there’s nothing much he can do about it. 

A few weeks later, he ends up buying a tub of green gunk at a market when a vendor, a more unusual looking alien who seems to resemble a walking spider plant with large green leaves tumbling out of the top of his or her head, waves at him excitedly from a stall littered with various bottles and pots. A cursory glance at Nebula tells Rhodey it’s safe to approach and he spends fifteen minutes having different types of funny smelling substances shoved under his nose until a familiar scent catches his attention, something close enough to coconut that he immediately reaches for the pot and dips his fingers inside to touch, much to the delight of the vendor. 

When he’s applying it into his hair that night whilst lazily sprawled on his bunk, Nebula says, "I used to have hair."

Rhodey only pauses for a brief second to acknowledge her with his eyes. "Yeah?"

She nods, perching on the opposite bunk, body tense like it usually is when she decides to share details of her past. "My father would cut parts of it off as punishment for my losses in battle, and then when he started increasing my enhancements, the rest fell out and never grew back." 

It’s almost impossible to imagine her looking any different than she does now, and yet the images of abuse and torture came far too easily than Rhodey can stomach. "Do you miss it?"

Nebula looks away. "That would be pointless."

"That would be human."

Her head snaps back towards him. "I am not human."

"Yeah you are," Rhodey says easily, lifting a hand away from his hair and pinching his thumb and forefinger close together. "A little bit."

"You are a vain species."

"I’m not the one rocking a headpiece." Rhodey gestures to the bronze plating on the top of her head. 

She throws her pillow at him in response. 

* * *

It’s hard to avoid Tony. 

Rhodey had expected it to be a problem back home. Hell, it had _always_ been a problem back home. Not that he’d tried to avoid Tony back then, but the man’s face has been a near constant feature in the media for as long as Rhodey can remember, and rarely for good reasons for a long time. 

He kinda wants to kick himself for not considering the possibility that the name Tony Stark, the literal saviour of the universe, would be known across the far reaches of the galaxy. 

Because it’s almost everywhere. 

It’s there on every planet they visit; in every bustling thrive of beings from this star here or that cascade there, in every place where Thanos has spread tragedy and destroyed lives. 

Tony Stark, Iron Man, the hero of the stars, the warrior of gold, man of iron, killer of tyrants, the defender of Earth - it’s a seemingly endless list of titles, of glory and remembrance for a man that so many have never even set their eyes on before. 

All too quickly, it feels like a legend; like a ghost story that’s been passed down by too many generations. 

Like Tony’s been gone forever instead of hardly any time at all. 

There’s a part of Rhodey that aches so fiercely with pride, but the rest is bitter and sharp, almost possessive in its anger because how dare anyone else talk about Tony so casually, like they knew a single thing about him when Rhodey is fracturing apart from the inside out with the sheer force of missing him. 

It’s taking a toll on Nebula as well, her discontent simmering away almost silently but somehow loud enough for Rhodey to hear it anyway; feel it like a tangible force. 

They see it when they look at each other too. There’s physical markers like Nebula’s red armored arm and Rhodey’s braces, but there’s also their matching grimaces and flinches when a memory hits too hard; when their thoughts stray too far from the safe path they try to force them onto. 

It’s probably why Rhodey takes so long to decide to work on the suit. 

Wearing it is one thing, because War Machine is a part of him and always will be, but it’s also a part of Tony too and his touch is within every connection and fibre of the suit, like fingerprints left behind on a glass. 

They’d worked on most versions together in one way or another, though the current version is one that Tony worked on just by himself, only telling Rhodey of its existence mere days before Thanos attacked the compound. Out of the flooded lower levels, Rhodey had spotted it in the hazy darkness, wedged among the debris and a few other weapon prototypes, and had barely managed to get it on when Scott was suddenly sizing up and busting them out of the wreckage. 

New as this version might be, it’s his, War Machine has always been his, but Rhodey still can’t help but feel like he’s breaking some kind of pact as he fiddles with one of the forearm guns and stares somewhat blankly at the holographic schematics and strings of code floating around in a swirl of blue.

He isn’t surprised when he spots Nebula through them, watching him thoughtfully. The red of her arm glints slightly as she steps closer, dark eyes flicking between the holograms. She freezes suddenly and Rhodey tenses in concern. "What?"

She points to something, a line of code that he hadn’t looked at yet, and he ducks his head to look closer, only to flinch back when he spots the words _hi platypus_ amongst a string of letters and numbers that look like some sort of protocol. 

"Are you going to - "

"No," Rhodey shakes his head. "I - I _can’t."_

Nebula nods, like she hadn’t expected him to say anything different. 

"I’d like your help though," he adds hoarsely, gesturing to the suit. "Never worked on it solo before. I don’t think I wanna start now."

Rhodey half expects the universe to implode, some sort of cataclysmic event to take place because never in a million years was this supposed to happen, and yet it doesn’t feel totally wrong. Bruce had been the one to help Nebula with her arm, but Rhodey suddenly knows that there’s nobody else he could do this with; nobody else apart from Tony. 

Nebula steps through the holograms, the _hi platypus_ rippling away against her jacket for a moment until she reaches the other side, and sets her hand gently beside his where it rests on the left shoulder of the armor. 

"Okay."

* * *

"Sam?"

_"That’s me. Good to hear your voice, man, it’s been a while! I didn’t think the connection would make it. Where are you?"_

"Uh…" Rhodey peers out the window. "Somewhere to the left of space, in the middle of space."

_"I thought you’d have all the constellations down by now."_

"You wanna come here and try it for yourself?"

_"I know how to read maps, unlike these two losers I know. Must be a James thing."_

Rhodey rolls his eyes. "Yeah, and a Sam thing is to be a pain in both our asses."

Sam’s chuckle rumbles through the line. _"Damn but do I actually miss your ugly face."_

"Yeah, sure. That bored without me, huh?"

 _"Please. Between being the new face of freedom and putting up with Mister I leave the milk carton in the fridge even when it’s empty - OW!"_ Sam yelps over a loud clatter. _"You see if I pick up those blood oranges you like next time I’m at the market. You just see!"_

"Trouble in paradise?" Rhodey enquires innocently. 

_"If paradise is me and The Winter Snoozer arguing over Netflix shows and stitching each other up, I don’t wanna know what hell looks like."_

"Sounds wise," Rhodey agrees with a soft laugh. "You’re okay though, yeah?"

_"Yeah. So are you planning on coming back down to Earth? I’d love a flying partner again. God knows I gotta show off the merchandise to someone who actually has taste."_

Bucky’s voice is faint as he retorts, _"This coming from the guy who told me Titanic was a bad movie."_

_"It is a bad movie! No amount of Leo DiCaprio can make up for the whole we can’t fit our two dumb asses on a floating door bullshit. Yeah, you walk away shaking your head, you know I’m right."_

There’s an ache brewing inside Rhodey, rooted right in the middle of his body. He holds his breath and pushes it deep down. "Glad you two haven’t killed each other while I’ve been gone."

 _"Give it time,"_ Sam threatens, the smile clear in his voice. _"Give it time.”_

* * *

"You really want to do this?"

"What, you scared?"

A blade flies into the wall by Rhodey’s head. 

"Sorry, Blue," he grins, flexing his fingers so the tendons in his wrist stand out. "C’mon, I’ll go first."

Nebula scowls at him. "You haven’t even told me what you want."

"Don’t matter. You can choose."

"This is permanent, you do realise that."

Rhodey nudges her leg with his boot. "I’m aware of how tattoos work."

Nebula sighs, lifts the pen-like device in her hand close to his arm, and hits a button. Rhodey sucks in a breath and grunts through his teeth as a thin beam of red hits his skin and begins to slowly trace some kind of shape. 

"Regretting it yet?" Nebula asks over the soft crackling sound of the beam, eyes not moving from his arm.

"Not at all," Rhodey growls. "Don’t get any funny ideas about - _fuck_ \- carving your name on me though. People might talk."

The intensity of the pain increases for a second and Rhodey yelps, prevented from jerking away by the grip of Nebula’s other hand on his forearm. "Hey!"

She smirks slightly but carries on, moving the pen in little flicks here and there, focused as he’s ever seen her. The pain lessens as she works, dulling into a strange kind of throb that radiates deep into his arm, and Rhodey finds himself half lost in a nonsensical kind of daydream when she eventually murmurs that she’s finished. 

They switch positions, Rhodey pointedly not looking yet like they agreed, and then it’s her turn to hold steady as he positions the light above the delicate underside of her wrist and moves it ever so carefully.

She doesn’t even flinch, not that he expected her to, but he still keeps his grip on her gentle and light as he works. 

He’s sweating from the concentration by the time he’s finished. They hold one another’s gazes for a second, then look down at their arms. 

A surprised, stunned kind of noise escapes Rhodey’s chest as he takes in the swirls of silver and ice blue etched into his skin; the loops and swirls that form something of a mini galaxy on his wrist. It’s not perfect, shaky and jagged in places, and yet it’s exactly right. 

He looks up at Nebula and watches her inspect his creation, one of her metal fingers very carefully following the lines of the tree he’s drawn, a golden silhouette surrounded by a few equally golden leaves and a dark wavy line to represent the water of the lake by the cabin back home, her favourite place to be when she’s on Earth. 

"Not bad for my ‘dumbass idea’, huh?" he says, grinning again as she rolls her eyes at him.

"You’ve definitely had worse."

"My mama would kill me. So, you like it?"

Her finger tracing the shapes again is the only answer he needs. 

  
  


* * *

The bar on the backwater planet covered in swampland and buildings propped up on hovercrafts erupts into a fistfight as soon as they walk in. Chairs go flying, glasses are smashed over heads and the music is lost under deafening shouts and the odd burst of gunfire. 

It lasts all of two minutes. Rhodey and Nebula watch from the doorway, glancing at each other in satisfaction when a very familiar voice booms, "Knock it off!" and a bang of lightning hits the ceiling. Almost everyone immediately drops back into their seats, giving a very clear view of Thor with Rocket standing on his left shoulder, gun aimed and teeth bared in an eager snarl. 

"That’s more like it!"

Rhodey snorts and bumps Nebula’s shoulder. "Some things never change, huh?"

She rolls her eyes and marches forward, tugging a glass off the bar and launching it at Rocket’s head. He jerks out of the way just in time, aims his gun, then breaks out into a raucous laugh and hops down to greet her, closely followed by Drax, Mantis and Groot. 

Rhodey has barely stepped out of his suit before he’s seized into a painful hug. "Jeez - Thor! Easy, big guy."

"I’m very glad to see you," Thor says somewhere over his head, deep voice rumbling like an engine. "I’m owed hugs, okay? Last time…too much was happening."

"Yeah," Rhodey manages to clap him on the back, shoving the memory of the funeral out of his mind. "I know, man."

Thor steps back and grins in a way that Rhodey can’t help but instantly return. He looks good; standing taller than he had for a long while, dreadlocks swept back from his face, beard still threaded into a braid. There’s a lack of desolation in his expression now, replaced by something much warmer. 

"Come on, let’s get a drink."

As Rhodey exchanges greetings with the others, he spots Quill slumped across the bar, head resting dangerously close to a small spill of something pink. Rhodey looks questioningly at Thor who sighs and shrugs sadly, then drops his hand a little too hard on Quill’s back.

"I’m awake!" Quill shouts, jerking upwards. "I’m awake!" His mask folds over his face. "Who do we need to kill?"

"Nobody," Thor says cheerfully. "No killing today."

"You’re such a buzzkill," Quill grumbles, face reappearing as he grabs a nearby tankard. He glances at Rhodey just before he takes a giant gulp. "Heyyyy it’s War Machine! Pew pew pewwww."

"I am Groot!"

"I know his name is Rhodey," Quill slurs irritably. He offers the tankard. "Drink?"

Rhodey waves his hand. "I’ll order myself something. What the hell is that anyway," he asks, wrinkling his nose at the bitter scent.

"S’nearly empty is what it is," Quill grunts. 

It’s nice seeing familiar faces, despite the air of sadness that lingers over them all. Thor’s always been a bright kind of soul and it’s good to see some of that brightness shining through again, warming that deep laugh and charming all the crazy stories that he’s so keen to regale Rhodey with as they drink. 

"So I grabbed one of the legs and swung him over my head - "

"Yeah, yeah," Rocket chimes in, "and I splattered one of the brains all over the place - "

"Yes," Thor chuckles, clapping him on the back. "It was disgusting."

"I liked the part where Drax chopped off a leg and hit the Queen with it," Mantis giggles from her perch on the bar. "She was so angry she turned yellow."

"I am Groot!"

Drax’s thunderous laugh fills the bar. "Yes, that was most amusing."

Nebula shares an exasperated look with Rhodey but says nothing, clearly far more content with their current environment than she would like to appear. Rhodey sips his second drink, a much less potent kind of mead than the one Thor had originally suggested, and glances at where Quill is still slumped across the bar, having hardly moved for the best part of an hour. 

Like he can sense Rhodey looking at him, Quill sits up and fixes him with a red-eyed stare. "Why is life such a bitch?"

Rhodey smiles ruefully and shrugs. "You got me, man."

"I don’t get it. We beat the big purple grape asshole guy. Why hasn’t everything become awesome again? S’what happens in the movies. It’s the law. You beat the bad guy and the world is saved, halle-freaking-lujah."

"How long has it been since you even watched a movie? Do they have movies up here?"

"Nothing _good,"_ Quill says with scornful disgust. He waves at the bartender for another round and promptly downs half of his refilled glass. "Did Nebula tell you about Gamora?"

"Yeah. I’m sorry."

Quill wipes his mouth on his sleeve. "It’s like...like they say in all the songs. It’s like this big endless ache right in the pit of my chest that never goes away." He looks up to smirk bitterly at the ceiling. "I lost my mom when I was eight years old. Thirty years later, I lost the man who was my dad except I didn’t know he was my dad until it was too late. And then Gamora..." He shakes his head, eyes dark and a little tearful as he looks at Rhodey again. "Man, I tell ya, it’s like the universe really hates my guts sometimes."

Rhodey snorts. "I think it’s had it in for all of us at some point."

"Ain’t that the truth," Quill agrees, taking another giant gulp of his drink. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"You ever make a promise, like a really terrible one that you know is gonna fuck up your life?"

Instantly, Rhodey’s mind leaps back a few decades, landing in a swanky bathroom where his younger self sits with his back against the shower door, a drunk and sobbing Tony tucked up against his chest, still dressed in the suit he wore to Jarvis’ funeral. 

_"You’re not on your own, man. You got me. Ride or die, remember?"_

_"You - you don’t mean that. You don’t know - "_

_"I promise, Tones, okay? I promise. I’m not going anywhere."_

Rhodey sucks in a ragged breath as he pulls himself out of the memory just as Nebula suddenly stands up abruptly next to him. The others have gone quiet too, the excitable banter from moments ago completely gone. 

Before he can ask what’s wrong, Rhodey hears it. 

"Wha’s so great about Iron Man anyway? Huh? Huh? If - if he’s so great, he’d be alive, s’all I’m saying!"

Nebula’s moving, and so is Rhodey, right behind her. 

"I coulda done it, y’know?" The voice is still crowing with obnoxious scorn. "I coulda done it AND I woulda lived to tell the tale!"

Nebula’s blade is in her hand, arm rearing back. She’s killed people for less insult than this, and Rhodey lifts a hand quickly, as though meaning to grab her wrist and hold her back; make her stop like Thor and the others are calling for her to. 

But instead, his hand curls into a fist, and he’s ducking round her to sink it straight into the sneering mouth of an alien with tentacles for hair. It’s followed by his other fist, then the first one again, and then he’s got the guy against the wall, both hands around his neck as chaos breaks out around them, Rocket’s cackling threats and Drax’s war cry the loudest over the splintering of chairs and breaking glass. 

Terrified yellow eyes peer down at Rhodey while scaly hands scrabble at the grip of his fingers, a burbling plea escaping from between bloody lips, but the jeers are still whirling inside Rhodey’s head, taunting his anger until it’s boiling and propelling one of his arms back for another hit - 

A hand grabs his shoulder and holds tight. 

"Let him go."

Rhodey bristles at the calmness of Thor’s voice and tries to shake him off. 

"He’s not worth this," Thor continues, holding steady, the softness of his words somehow louder than any of the screaming and shouting. With firm gentleness, he reaches round and prises Rhodey’s fingers loose. The guy slides down to the floor immediately and bursts into wracking sobs, slumped against the wall like a ragdoll. 

Rhodey doesn’t realise that he’s shaking until Thor’s arm circles his shoulders. "C’mon, my friend. Let’s find somewhere quieter."

They move through the sea of fighting with surprising ease, only pausing so Thor can scoop an unconscious Quill up from the floor like he weighs nothing at all. Rhodey glances back for Nebula and spots a glimpse of her booting someone in the back, so he figures she’s okay for now. 

Soon, he finds himself sitting on the gangplank of the Guardian’s ship, a cup of something like coffee in his hand and Quill snoring behind him. Thor’s leaning by his side, watching him thoughtfully. 

"I’ve not seen you angry before."

"Not usually an angry guy," Rhodey shrugs. "But that was hardly my first bar fight."

"No?"

"Happened a few times back in college. Tony…" Rhodey takes a deep breath, allowing the name to settle on his tongue. "Tony would say it was his fault but that wasn’t true. Most of the time, people just took one look at him and made up their mind. He was just a kid, already used to all of it and it made me so mad."

Thor grimaces. "I must confess that I was guilty of the same thing when I met him."

"That was different."

"I regret it nonetheless. He was a good man - a good friend." Thor smiles sadly. "And you miss him greatly."

Rhodey looks at the ground, hands squeezing into fists by his side as the pain swirls in his chest. He’d endured a fair number of split lips, bruised eyes and prejudiced cops as a result of those bar fights, and for a time it had been the only source of contention between him and Tony, especially because Tony saw himself more than capable of getting into a fight on Rhodey’s behalf but not his own, more than willing to shout down and quite often smack anyone in the face before they could even finishing uttering some racist insult. 

But Rhodey didn’t want that; didn’t need his best friend to fight his battles or protect him from the moral sickness that still polluted far too much of the world around them. He didn’t need a saviour and it was during one night stuck in a cell that he’d told Tony so, only to grit his teeth when Tony argued spitefully that he didn’t need a knight in shining armor either. 

They never spoke about it again, but they got into far less fights after that, choosing to drag each other out of the fight instead of simply moving one another aside to throw a punch. 

Just as well because as they grew older, the complexities of their lives quickly and rapidly outgrew the dramas of a college bar brawl. 

And yet here Rhodey is so many years later, sporting split knuckles and deflating under the depleting rush of adrenaline once again, but Tony’s nowhere in sight. It’s just him, a passed out Kevin Bacon wannabe and a god of thunder who looks about two seconds away from giving him another back-cracking embrace. 

Thankfully, Thor doesn’t do that and merely sighs. "I know what it is to see your brother die in front of you."

Rhodey flinches. 

"I’m sorry that you also know how painful it is."

Rhodey sees it: the charred, blistered skin of Tony’s face, the vacancy of his brown eyes as they stare unseeingly, the stillness of his body. Then it changes into someone more familiar; someone with unruly dark hair, eyes full of mischief and hands and arms streaked with oil as they dig into the body of some invention, the clanging of tools mixing in with a voice so full of charm and warmth. 

But all too quickly, the bitter reality pushes its way in and poisons everything dark and twisted, and all Rhodey sees is the flicker of a smile Tony offered him in those last moments, unsurprised and resigned to the shitty, horrible fate he’d been given; like it would ever be any other way. 

A hero’s death many had called it, and yet there’s nothing that a hero would deserve in a death so unfair; a death so cruel that it’s like the pages in the story of their lives have been ripped out and replaced with shreds of horror fiction, brutal and unmerciful and _wrong wrong wrong._

It’s only when Rhodey meets Thor’s kind gaze that he realises that his own eyes are brimming with tears. He scrubs them away quickly and laughs weakly, a brittle and broken noise that sounds far too much like a sob. 

"Brothers, huh."

Thor laughs gruffly, his good eye taking on a wet shine of its own. "Yeah."

"Only child," Quill burbles from behind them.

"Good thing too," Thor says, reaching over to pat his foot. "The universe does not need more of you."

The kick Quill aims at him is sluggish and misses the mark completely, landing with a thud on the gangplank. Thor shakes his head with something that looks almost like a fond smile, pushes it away, then tentatively rests his hand on Rhodey’s shoulder. 

"It’s not easy living with the knowledge that you are one of the people he sacrificed his life for, but I think you and I both know he would not have had it any other way, not if it meant any harm coming to you."

"Thor," Rhodey shakes his head. "Don’t."

Not for one minute has he ever been under the illusion that he’s the only person to feel like this; that there aren’t people quaking beneath the same unbearable kind of loss that he is. It’s part of the reason why he’s up here after all. 

But he’s not ready to share the grief; not ready to truly exchange and weather it with anyone else yet. It still feels fathomless, destined to go on forever in looping orbits like a comet, mixing with all the other kinds of loss he’s endured before and turning it all supernova until it seems to be the only thing that has or ever will exist. 

Thor doesn’t say anything else. The tightening of his hand says enough, and it’s in a fragile kind of silent understanding that they wait for the others to find them. 

* * *

Two days later, while Nebula is busy fixing a connection in her arm, Rhodey takes a deep breath and calls Happy. 

He answers in four rings. _"If you’re calling for a ride, you can forget it."_

"Hey to you too," Rhodey laughs. 

_"I’m serious. I don’t care if you’re stuck on some Death Star or whatever - "_

"How much time have you been spending with Peter? There’s no Death Star up here."

_"You’re flying around in some spaceship with a blue robot lady who is friends with a talking raccoon. Don’t act like I’m the crazy one. The kid is the most valuable source of knowledge I’ve got for these things, and it’s depressing for me to even say that out loud."_

Rhodey smiles at the familiar gruffness of Happy’s voice. "I’m sure spending time with his aunt sweetens the deal a little."

He can almost hear Happy puffing up, indignant and embarrassed. _"Don’t know what you’re talking about."_

"Uh huh, sure you don’t."

Happy grumbles some kind of undecipherable insult beneath his breath. _"So, what, you go to space and become even more of a jackass?"_

"Guess so."

_"Well that’s just great.”_

"Seriously though, man, have you asked that woman out on a date yet?"

_"Could you sound a little less judgmental?"_

"Probably. Ask her out to dinner and we’ll see."

Happy gives a dry laugh. _"I take back all the times I’ve thought it would be good to see your face over the last few months. Space can keep you."_

"Does that mean I can’t be a bridesmaid?"

_"Depends on when you’re planning on coming back. You might miss it."_

It’s not a complete dig; Happy’s always been too outspoken to do well with subtleties, but it’s close. Rhodey expected the topic to come up and yet there’s still a blank space in his mind where some kind of answer should be. 

A silence stretches out for a moment, thick like fog, and then Happy sighs. 

_"Don’t know if I could do it without Tony there either."_

Rhodey blinks at the ceiling. "Yeah, he always said he’d be your best man."

_"You both would. Keep each other out of trouble, then I’d get Pepper to do it when you both annoyed me too much."_

For a while, back at the start of it all, the only connection between Rhodey and Happy had been Tony, the one common factor that gave them a presence in each other’s lives. Different as they may be, it didn’t take long for a bond of friendship to grow, just like it did with Pepper, and their odd little quartet was formed, built upon foundations of bickering and sass and exasperation that would amazingly stand and withhold more than they likely had a right to. 

Whenever he was in town and Tony was buried in his workshop or trapped in board meetings with Pepper, Rhodey would invite Happy out to a game or for a burger and they’d sit and shoot the shit, easy and free, a different kind of comrades in arms but no less valuable for it.

"I wish we spent more time together," Rhodey hears himself say as an awareness of absence rushes over him. "You and me. All of us. Went to more games, had more downtime, more vacations."

 _"Yeah,"_ Happy agrees quietly. _"That trip to Hawaii was pretty good though."_

"You slept for most of it, man."

_"Exactly. You and Tony did all the stupid stuff, Pepper got a tan and I slept. Couldn’t have asked for more."_

"What about the snorkeling?"

_"If you mention that damn thing with the turtle - "_

"I’m saying nothing," Rhodey promises, holding up his hands even though Happy can’t see. "You’re right, that was a good time."

Before Afghanistan, before Iron Man, the Avengers; before they knew of the reaches of worlds beyond their own. Back when life was a little smaller, easier, and Rhodey’s insides didn’t feel like they were formed of scar tissue and glass. 

He thinks of that day, seeing that same shattered, almost exasperated grief in Happy’s eyes as they stand side by side on the dock and for a moment, the first in a while, he wishes he was home. 

* * *

  
  


The rapping on the windshield doesn’t frighten Rhodey, mostly because he would recognise that distinct pulsing glow of light anywhere. It fades briefly to give him a glimpse of Carol’s smirking face and he rolls his eyes as a way of greeting. She gestures at the planet behind her with a thumb, and Rhodey nods, throwing the ship into forward thrust to get a head start, though she streaks ahead of him easily moments later. 

It’s one of the rarer times that he actually sees Nebula sleeping, so he leaves her a note before heading out, finding Carol leaning against the side of the ship by the gangplank. 

"Well well, if it isn’t my favourite Colonel."

"If it isn’t my favourite glowstick."

Carol laughs and pulls him into a hug. "I heard you were around."

"Word travels fast on the spacevine, huh?"

"Something like that. Sorry I didn’t stop by before now, you know how it is.”

"Yeah, yeah, big time space superhero yada yada yada."

Carol whacks him playfully on the arm. “Drink?"

In the crowded bar, Carol grabs them a pitcher each of something that looks like cough medicine but tastes decidedly better, and they slide into a cramped booth in the back. 

"So, how’s my number one fan?"

"You mean Quill?"

"Aw, it’s so cute how you keep denying it."

Rhodey chuckles. "Never gonna let that go, are you."

"Nooope."

"Well, you’re pretty hot I guess, for a sixty-something year old woman."

"Not so bad yourself there," Carol grins, and they clink their pitchers together. 

It’s easy being in her company, but then it always has been. Though shared moments of rest and reprieve during the five years between snaps had been rare, especially after Maria’s health took a swan dive and rapidly deteriorated, joining Carol on the odd mission had brought with it a sense of relief, a sense of understanding that felt familiar to Rhodey right from the start. Her name had been legendary within the Air Force, as had Maria’s, so to know that the person behind that legend outshines all the stories is a strange kind of honour. 

Tony would tease him about it, elbowing him in the ribs and cracking jokes about his ‘crush on the space lady’ but it was all mostly in jest, because Rhodey knew that Tony was just relieved that there was yet another person watching Rhodey’s six. 

It’s almost an hour later and a second round of pitchers when Carol’s face softens, the cocky edges of her smile shifting into something more melancholy. "You gonna tell me how you really are?"

"I’m fine."

"You and I both know you wouldn’t be up here if you were."

"Maybe I was just hoping to bump into you," he retorts, giving her his best attempt at a devilish smirk even as his insides twist. "See who tops out for stamina."

Carol’s eyes sparkle as they narrow. "No contest there."

"Sure about that?"

"Rhodey."

"I’m…" Rhodey curls his hand around the handle of the pitcher and squeezes. "Look, do we have to do this?"

Carol shrugs. "Not if you don’t want to."

"Do you want to?" he asks, perhaps too harshly from the way her eyes flicker with a regret she can’t quite hide. He knows too well the guilt she carries for Maria, for all that happened between her and Monica when they found out Maria was ill, and it leaves visible stains of grief all over her, deep and dark. "They say misery loves company."

Carol tightens her jaw, then lifts her pitcher. "Or we could just get wasted instead."

"That I like," Rhodey says and takes a giant swig. 

He sings a few terrible rounds of _Come Fly With Me_ to her as they stumble out of the bar a while later. Nebula is awake when they enter the ship and merely rolls her eyes before leaving them to it. There’s not much fuss as they shuffle out of their clothes, giggling when Carol’s foot gets caught in the leg of her suit and she falls on her ass, and cram onto his bunk with even less grace, Carol in one of his old shirts and Rhodey in his ratty sweatpants, tangling up together under the covers. 

It’s comforting, soothing in a strange way, almost as if they’re a pair of dumb teenagers trying to sleep off the booze after sneaking out to a party. If they were younger, or in another time or another place, this whole scenario would probably play out differently, but for now it’s enough to just have someone close. 

As Carol buries her nose into his neck, Rhodey’s swallows hard as a fierce ache makes itself known in his throat. 

"I really miss him," he whispers. 

"Yeah," Carol slurs after a minute, hugging his head. "I know how you feel."

"Does it get easier?"

Carol doesn’t say anything for a while, long enough for Rhodey to think she’s fallen asleep already. 

"No," she eventually whispers. "You just learn to live with it."

* * *

Quill bombards their frequency for three days about a retrieval mission, something about Thor being an asshole and going to Earth for vacation and an ancient treasure that had been plucked from the skull of some mythical alien back when the dinosaurs were babies or something equally terrifying, growing more and more obnoxious with his demands until they give in, rendezvousing on the outskirts of what looks like a small planet formed completely out of discarded burnt out husks of old spaceships. 

The entire place is dark, only a charcoal-dusted moon residing over the jagged peaks and crumbling gangways, the stars above blinking like SOS signals somewhere far away, sending a chill down Rhodey’s spine. 

"So how did you hear about this treasure?"

Quill shrugs. "Some princess of some ancient order."

"We get hired by rich folks a lot," Rocket adds smugly. 

"Kinda weird," Rhodey murmurs, brushing a hand over the smoothed ridges of an old control panel. "How would an ancient treasure end up somewhere like this?"

"You ask a lot of questions," Drax states. 

"I am Groot."

"Shh!" Nebula snarls as they head into a giant dome-like structure, circling in a slow formation around one another to cover all angles. 

"This place is creepy," Mantis whispers, eyes widening. "Lots of people have died here."

 _"Here_ here? Or when these ships were still functioning with crews living on them?" Rhodey asks. 

Mantis’ voice is downright foreboding as she looks at him and murmurs, "Both."

"Can we not with the creepy?" Rocket complains. "I’m trying to have a nice time over here."

They find the treasure with far too much ease in a rickety old box adorned with a fist-size padlock, resting within the destroyed remnants of an escape pod. A strange, icy green glow seeps out from the gaps in the wood, casting thin waves of light all around in the darkness. 

The first gun goes off just as Rhodey clocks one of the many figures stepping out from the shadows. There’s a chorus of vicious snarling, followed by Quill yelling something about an ambush while returning fire and the place rapidly descends into a screaming match of gunfire and shouting. 

Rhodey quickly takes to the air, firing his repulsors in sweeping arcs, cutting off the closest few that make a grab for the box in Quill’s arms. They waste no time in heading for the exit and out onto the long gangplank, firing over their shoulders and slamming their way through the wave of looming, multi-limbed creatures grabbing and shooting at them from every direction. 

"Who the hell are these guys?" he grunts, shaking off a clawed paw as it manages to snag his foot. 

"Bounty hunters," Rocket says through the comms. "The asshole kind."

"Aren’t you basically a bounty hunter?"

Rocket’s insulted yell of, "EXCUSE YOU!" is lost under one of his weird grenades going off and trapping a bunch of the hunters in a translucent bubble. "I am a GUARDIAN - "

Rhodey grins inside his mask as he hears Quill snickering somewhere above his head, and once Mantis starts giggling it’s no surprise when Drax starts laughing; the deep, booming guffaw that rebounds in the air like the drums of an orchestra, setting off a chain reaction that captures Rhodey right along with it. He never gets enough of this; the burst of excitement, the heady pulse of adrenaline that only comes from being gun to gun, up in the air and dancing with danger. 

They’re almost to the ship now, the buzz of victory already an electric taste on Rhodey’s tongue, and Nebula’s right there, a few paces behind Quill and volleying fire with graceful arches and twirls of her weapons. 

"Nebula! Come on!"

She twists, the space behind her turns red for a second, jerking her forward a few steps, and the light in her eyes completely vanishes, leaving Rhodey to hang in the air as he watches her fall to her knees, already lifeless. 

"Nebula!" someone is shouting, maybe Rocket, maybe Quill. "Get up! Get the hell up!"

The atmosphere turns vampiric, sucking everything else away until all that’s left is blistering, caustic fury. It pours out of Rhodey, molten and red hot, and he doesn’t even realise he’s yelling until the blasts from his repulsors muffles the noise in his ears, and he’s raining heavy fire from his guns in incessant waves, shredding whatever is in the way until he lands and starts throwing punches. 

_Not her not her not her -_

Quill crashes in from the side, shooting three of the hunters in the face and kicking one away before scooping down to grab Nebula. She flops limply in his grasp, nothing but a ragdoll, arms swinging as Quill throws her over his shoulder, dropping the treasure as he fumbles for his gun. 

Rhodey doesn’t even spare it a glance as he pushes forward and carries on firing and punching, the hits reverberating through the suit in jolting tremors from the force of how hard they connect.

_Not her not her not her -_

"Move, you freaking morons!" 

Rocket’s berating snaps Rhodey out of the fog of rage enough for him to start backing up, almost shunting Quill backwards towards the ship while he continues to throw out repulsor blasts, not stopping until he’s halfway on board and Drax has got a hand on his shoulder to yank him fully inside. 

"Where the fuck is Thor when you need him," Rocket is yelling from somewhere. "Quick, set her down here."

Rhodey stumbles along, shaking from head to toe, lurching into the wall when the ship suddenly lifts from the ground, music kicking in almost instantly along with the engines. The addictive opening beat of _Mr Blue Sky_ has never been more offensive to his ears as he sees Nebula sprawled out on the mess table with Rocket by her side, fiddling frantically with the insides of her cybernetic arm while Quill yells from the bridge and Groot and Mantis hover anxiously nearby. 

"I am Groot!"

"I don’t know!" Rocket snaps, all but stuffing himself completely inside one of his toolboxes. "I can’t find the freaking - WHERE IS IT - "

Rhodey opens his helmet and takes slow, shaking steps closer while Mantis places her fingers on Nebula’s forehead and closes her eyes, her features furrowing in concentration. 

"I can’t...there’s nothing - "

The world starts slipping into white noise, all the blistering rage from before morphing into static numbness, and yet Rhodey still manages to reach Nebula’s side and slowly take her hand in his. The blue of her skin stands out almost luminously against the red of his suit, the scars on her fingers glinting like dull silver. 

"Why aren’t you doing something?" Drax barks at Rocket. 

"I am, I am!" Rocket yells as he tumbles back out of the box, a small cartridge in his hand. Grabbing one of the cables from Nebula’s arm, he holds it close to the cartridge and takes a deep breath, then jams it inside. 

The electrical current that explodes through Nebula’s entire body is enough to send Mantis toppling off the edge of the table and buckle Rhodey’s knees. He doesn’t let go though, because there’s a tightening around his fingers; a squeezing sensation that he can somehow feel through the armor as though it isn’t there at all. 

_Please please please -_

There’s so much noise; so much shouting over the thrumming crackle of energy and the music that’s still playing and it’s so loud, so damn loud that when Nebula opens her mouth to scream, Rhodey thinks his eardrums have ruptured. 

But she is screaming, her back bowing, hand holding Rhodey’s so tightly, and she’s alive. 

_Alive._

Rocket cuts the current and everything except the damn music goes horrendously silent for a second, stopping Rhodey’s heart right along with it. Then Nebula breathes harshly and everyone simultaneously groans in relief. 

"What the hell was that?" Quill calls. "What happened?"

Rocket throws the smoking cartridge over his shoulder and shouts back, "Thor in a box, basically!" He pokes Nebula none too gently on the leg. "Don’t you _ever_ do that again!"

"I am Groot!"

As Drax lets out another one of his booming laughs and Mantis mentions something about getting the emergency kit for the injuries, Rhodey leans close to Nebula, all but hovering over her as she blinks dazedly up at the ceiling, thin swirls of smoke wisping off her jacket. 

"Hey," he murmurs, voice catching. "Hey."

Her gaze shifts to his face and the lines of tension, of pain, by her mouth ease up slightly. Her eyes are alight again, no longer dead and empty like they had been moments before she went down. 

"You with me?"

She gives a tiny nod. 

"You’re not allowed to do that again. You hear me? You can’t - don’t scare me like that, alright?"

"Pathetic," Nebula croaks with a tired glare, but her hand, still holding onto his, tightens just a fraction more. 

* * *

And so it goes, more days turning into more weeks turning into more months, endless stars and planets ready and waiting at every turn. No day is exactly the same, but there’s an edge of comfortable normality to it all now, one that Rhodey hadn’t anticipated when he made the choice to leave Earth. 

From day one, it’s been a conscious effort to not think about everything; to block out as much as he can. It’s become a daily habit, molded into his routine, muscle memory and survival instinct rolled into one. 

So maybe that’s why it’s about half an hour after he wakes up, when he’s halfway through eating some dried protein bar for breakfast, that Rhodey realises that Tony wasn’t the first thing he thought of this morning. 

Nor the second. Or the third. 

In fact, it’s only now, after he’s put on his braces, brushed his teeth, fiddled with the navigation system, contemplated what the weather is like back on Earth and said hello to Nebula that Tony is even crossing his mind. 

The realisation is like a bullet to the gut. Immediately, rancid heat begins to bubble inside him, churning with the ferocity of a whirlpool. He can feel his breath coming in short staticky bursts, not quite leaving his lungs for the fists that seem to be currently squeezing them closed, because he didn’t think, he forgot, he didn’t remember - 

Two hands, one metal, one surprisingly warm, press against his face. Gasping, or maybe heaving, Rhodey meets Nebula’s gaze as she murmurs a soft, "Breathe, Rhodey. _Breathe."_

Amazingly he does, but it twists in his throat and erupts as a sob, the broken kind that’s been trapped for far too long. 

He doesn’t fight when Nebula slowly pulls him closer, her movements retaining the hesitant awkwardness that she’ll never fully lose, and he wraps his arms around her waist as soon as his face presses into her shoulder. The leather of her jacket is smooth, frayed soft with wear, and smells faintly like gasoline and gunsmoke, so very close to the way Tony would smell after nights down in the lab, and it pulls another sob from Rhodey’s chest, followed by another and another until it’s a ceaseless torrent, the levee finally breaking apart. 

_("Rhodey…"_

_"I’m fine - I’m fine, man - "_

_"No you’re not, hey, c’mere."_

_"Seriously - "_

_"Stop pretending you don’t wanna cuddle already and get over here. It’s about time I was the one being used for a tissue around here.")_

They shift positions until somehow they’re sitting side by side on the floor, backs to the wall, heads resting together, Rhodey’s arm over Nebula’s shoulder and hers looping around his back, one hand fiercely gripping his shirt as he continues to crack and crumble. 

He loses all sense of time for how deeply he sinks beneath the tide of grief, letting it carry him far out to where the hurt is strongest, to the place that holds all that he’s been trying to run away from all this time. 

It takes him all the way back to MIT; back to the night he had to take Tony to the emergency room after finding him unconscious and covered in vomit in their bathroom. It had been the start of the steady reveal of how self-destructive Tony could be. For so many years, Rhodey had carried a fear, one that he kept buried as deep as he could, that Tony would die young, though exactly when and the manner in which it happened was a constantly changing factor: Overdose after Jarvis died, Afghanistan, that mess with the arc reactor, New York, the attack on the house in Malibu, Titan - no matter how many times Tony proved him wrong, he’d still carried the fear. 

And the worst thing of all is that in those final moments, when he and Tony looked into each other’s eyes and Tony had offered him the barest hint of a smirk, a flicker of that _ha ha gotcha_ smile that Rhodey had seen so many times before, he realised that Tony had known about that fear all along. 

But it’s still too young, too unfair, too cruel and it pulls Rhodey apart as he finally lets himself feel it; feel every single shred of pain and guilt and anger as it washes over him again and again and he pours it all out into the open, far too tired to run anymore. 

"You know," he rasps some time later, still tucked against Nebula’s side, "when I first met Tony, he - he was my third roommate. The other two switched out when they released I was black and Tony…" he laughs shakily, words falling out of his mouth of their own accord, "he was all fluffy hair and braces, barely came up to my chin and he just waltzed right in, threw a bunch of his stuff on the bed, decided he was gonna calll me Rhodey because Jim was a dumb name and asked if I wanted to get pizza." He brushes some of the tears off his cheeks. "Three months later, he got a damn growth spurt and was by far the best friend I ever had."

Nebula doesn’t say anything for a moment. The grip of her hand on his shirt, having eased up once he’d stopped crying, tightens a little. "He never acted like I was any different. He didn’t care what I was, what I had done, what I looked like."

"For the record, neither did I."

"I know."

"Good."

"You both made that stupid joke about nebulas by the way."

The comment catches Rhodey off guard. He blinks, then starts to laugh. It hurts to do so, every inch of him rattled and weak, but it feels good too, like warm hands digging into sore muscles. Nebula huffs out an amused breath and shakes her head, and he sees the hint of her smile from the corner of his eye. 

His laughter eases up enough for him to say, "Tony did always tell terrible jokes," 

"He told me the same thing about you."

"Oh, I bet he did."

She laughs with him this time, the sound quiet and soft in the air. 

"Honestly, I don’t know what I would have done without you." Rhodey wriggles his arm so he can rest his hand on her shoulder properly and squeeze. "Don’t know what he would have done either."

Died in space, cold and alone. Never made it home, never married Pepper, had Morgan, seen Peter again, saved the world. It occurs to Rhodey that Nebula probably doesn’t consider herself responsible in any way for so much of the good that’s happened since Thanos snapped his fingers, but he knows better than to say so outright and opts for squeezing her shoulder again. 

"Gamora gave up the location of the Soul Stone for me."

There’s no teasing in her voice now; just broken edges that scrape against Rhodey’s already brittle emotions. 

"Thanos had me strung up, wrenched apart into pieces, as punishment for me sneaking aboard his ship to kill him. After he captured Gamora, he made her watch as he carried on pulling me apart."

It’s so long ago, enough for it to seem like forever, and yet Rhodey feels the anger on her behalf anyway. 

"I told myself I hated her for so long," Nebula continues, "that she hated me. But in the end, she died because of me."

Rhodey shakes his head. "Because of Thanos. Every bad, terrible fucking thing happened because of him."

"I helped him."

"No," Rhodey says firmly. "If you’re gonna be in this pity party, you gotta play by the rules, and the rules are this: No blaming yourself for things that you couldn’t control."

Nebula’s gaze is knowing, almost gentle, as she fixes it on his face. "Have you tried telling yourself that?"

"That’s not the same."

"Yes it is."

Rhodey glares at her, but doesn’t resist when she leans a little closer against his side. 

"Not all of us are so lucky to have happy memories with those we consider family. But Tony, and you, and the others gave me a chance to see that things could be different."

 _"Are_ different," Rhodey corrects. "No refunds on club membership, you know."

Nebula rolls her eyes. "Whatever. You know he would say the exact same thing. You can’t blame yourself."

Rhodey sighs. "I’ll stop when you stop, Blue."

"I was once known for my ability to get information out of anyone in the galaxy."

"Yep, and now you’re known for being less bloodthirsty but ruthless at paper football."

From the way she tells the stories, the old Nebula would have likely stabbed him in the gut long before this point, for so much less than mocking her playfully. The Nebula now, sitting beside him with her arm around him like it’s never been any different than this, simply huffs and jabs him in the ankle with the toe of her boot. 

"You’re going to activate that protocol."

Rhodey doesn’t argue. Truthfully, he’d known somewhere deep down that he would, but that doesn’t mean he’s anywhere near ready for it. 

And yet here he is, alone now save for the War Machine suit propped up in one of the pilot seats on the bridge, watching strings of code and data flicker in front of his eyes until he spots those two words in the midst of it all, all but calling out to him. 

There’s a tightening sensation in the pit of his stomach as he speaks out loud, knowing that even though the suit has never been equipped with any kind of AI system, something will happen. "Activate _hi platypus_ protocol."

He isn’t really sure what he expected to happen, but it sure as hell wasn’t light beaming out of the War Machine eyes and rippling into an almost solid shape, only the slightest bit transparent and tinged with blue, leaving him staring into a very familiar face. 

The last time Rhodey saw Tony, he’d been breathless, barely alive, already half lost, vulnerable and broken in a way that Rhodey had never dreamt of even in his worst nightmares. 

In front of Rhodey now is a very different sight indeed. 

Tony looks...he looks so _young;_ more like the guy that existed before they knew of intergalactic threats and apocalypses than the one worn down and exhausted from trying to save everyone. The messy waves of his hair, the crinkle by his eyes, the playful yet gentle nature of his grin: it’s all Tony, close enough to touch if he were truly real. 

Rhodey swallows hard and clears his throat. "So, this is a kind of A.I. or something, right?"

"Kind of," Tony shrugs. "A one time experience though. The protocol will write itself out of the coding once this is done."

"This is advanced even for you, man."

"Not really," Tony gives a cocky waggle of his eyebrows. "I figured out time travel, remember."

"Yeah," Rhodey nods weakly, "yeah, you did."

The ache in his chest that he’s been battling against since he came up here wrenches into some kind of gaping wound as he watches Tony walk around in front of him, so convincingly real that it’s almost hard to accept otherwise. 

"So," Tony spreads his arms wide. "What do you think?"

"I think you look about twenty years too young."

"Well, that’s rude. And rich coming from the guy sporting a hairstyle he had thirty years ago."

"How…" Rhodey shakes his head, clenching his shaking hands into fists. "This isn’t possible. This is like - "

"Like I’m really here?" Tony interrupts gently. "Yeah, kinda the point, honeybear. Though I gotta say, it’s a total bummer to know that it was necessary, as this means I kicked the bucket." He waves a hand in playful dismissal. "Don’t think you’re completely special though, it’s not just you. The one I left Pepper will probably get stuff thrown at him, poor guy."

Rhodey shakes his head again. "It’s not like he’s real."

"Ouch."

"And she wouldn’t do that. She’s sad, not angry with you."

Tony tilts his head. "But you are."

The heat of the rage that suddenly pours over Rhodey is scalding, melting all the way to his core where it churns with the rest of it; all the sorrow and regret and grief until it’s choking him from the inside, gripping his throat as he lets out a furious scream and throws a punch at the War Machine armor. It topples over, crashing to the ground, and for one terrifying moment, Tony disappears. 

Rhodey’s about to sink to his knees when it flickers back to life, Tony’s face a conflicted twist of guilt as he looks down at Rhodey. "Okay, really angry."

"Yeah, I’m fucking angry. What did you expect? I watched you _die_ right in front of me. I listened to Pepper sob her heart out while you just lay there - "

"Okay, okay," Tony holds up his hands, looking moments away from crying himself, a notion which is beyond insane but somehow unsurprising because Rhodey’s staring at the ghost of his dead best friend and yelling at him. Nothing is out of the realms of possibility anymore. "I get it, you’re mad, I’m sorry - "

"Sorry for what exactly? For dying? For planning contingencies in case you did die like you thought? For not _telling_ me, for shutting me out _again?"_

"I didn’t shut you out," Tony argues hotly, the look of pain on his face twisting into something a little more fierce. "This wasn’t like what happened with the palladium poisoning."

"I’ll say," Rhodey laughs bitterly. "You’re actually dead this time."

"I know - "

"No, you _don’t_ know! Because you’re not real! You’re a fake, a stupid goddamn ghost made out of guilt." Rhodey’s shaking harder now, trembling so much that he can barely think straight. "You don’t know a damn thing because you’re not here. You’re gone."

He only realises he’s crying when Tony steps closer and lifts a hand hesitantly, an automatic gesture of comfort, only to retract it sharply, eyes widening like the movement has confused him just as much as it’s stunned Rhodey. 

"I’m as real as JARVIS ever was," Tony says. "You were about as cut up as me about him being gone. How is this version of me any different to that?" 

Rhodey grits his teeth. It’s a cheap argument, a low blow designed to make any comeback he has unfair and harsh, as was usually the way with their arguments over the years whenever he’d been dumb enough to rise to the bait. 

"It’s still not you."

Tony gives a broken little laugh. "Yeah, well, it’s as close as you’re gonna get, pal."

Rhodey glares at him furiously but doesn’t reply, too many vicious words sticking to his tongue that he simply doesn’t know where to begin. 

"So...you wanna tell me what happened?"

The question is a jarring reminder of how much can take place in such a short amount of time. This version of Tony had to have been made mere days, if not hours, before the final fight; an echo of a Tony that was still alive. 

Rhodey rubs his hands across his face, sniffing loudly. "Bruce snapped, then Thanos attacked us and blew up the compound. Next thing I know, a bunch of portals are opening and we’re flying into battle with an alien army."

"It worked?" Tony whispers. "They all came back?"

Rhodey knows what he’s really asking; _who_ he’s really asking about. "Yeah, they did."

He’d seen the moment Tony and Peter reunited on the battlefield, the way Tony had pulled the kid close and held on tight, looking for all the world like he would never let go again. Later on, Rhodey had done something similar, holding Peter up as he sobbed, battle-weary and devastated, weeping helplessly like the kid he truly was. 

"Then don’t look so blue, sugarsnap. That was always the endgame, right?"

The urge to hit him, hurt him really bad, is so intense that it brings more tears to Rhodey’s eyes, shameful and hot. 

"You know, when the compound got blown up, I was trapped under all of the mess. Rocket and Bruce were with me and water was pouring in. My suit was busted and nobody could hear us. Right before we were about to go under, you know what I was thinking about?"

Tony shakes his head. 

"It wasn’t about Jeanie, or Lila, or how I wished for the thousandth time I hadn’t been shot out of the sky so I could still use my legs, like it would somehow help. It wasn’t about how nobody would ever know what happened to us all the way down there, mixed in with the water and rubble."

There’s heartbroken horror seeping into Tony’s expression, aging him rapidly in front of Rhodey’s eyes. 

"It was about how I wouldn’t get to see your face when we won."

Tony makes a sound like he’s inhaling sharply. 

"Because somehow, I _knew_ we would. I could feel it like I’ve never felt anything before." A few more tears escape and Rhodey chuckles roughly. "I didn’t for one second think that if I did get to see your face again, you’d be dying." 

"Yeah," Tony sniffs, jaw clenching. "Life’s a bitch like that, huh?"

"Sure is."

"I’m...glad you were there with me. At the end."

Rhodey suddenly has a desperate need for a drink. Many drinks actually, and he wonders why the hell he didn’t consider this need before starting this whole thing. 

"Yeah, well, it’s not like I’d be anywhere else."

They stare at each other for a moment. All the anger that Rhodey’s been harbouring is starting to melt, shifting further into that ceaseless press of melancholy that adds a touch of sourness to everything good. He wants to cling onto it, use it as a barrier against all the other feelings he knows will hurt even more if he carries on letting them in, because being angry at Tony is so much easier than remembering the reasons why he’s angry; easier than acknowledging all that love that can't be shared and felt the same way it used to be. 

It’s weariness, an exhausted kind of defeat that clouds his voice as he asks, "Why, Tones? Why you?"

Tony shrugs. "Gotta live up to expectations, I guess. Let’s face it, we all knew I was never going to reach old age."

"Shut up, you know that’s not true."

"You’re right," Tony nods. "This is far later than I expected. I could have died back in college from a drug overdose. Or in that cave from an infection, or from being burnt alive in the desert. Maybe Stane, or maybe when I carried the nuke - "

"How the hell did you manage to programme so much bullshit into this?" 

Tony grins, a little sheepish. "Talent?"

Despite himself, Rhodey laughs, shaky and exasperated, which makes Tony do the same, and it’s a brief snatch of time that doesn’t feel totally painful. "You are the biggest pain in my ass."

"Aw, honeybear, you really mean it?"

"Yeah, man. Always. Reigning champion since ‘85."

Tony looks pleased, his grin growing wider. Rhodey drinks in the sight, unable to stop himself. The part of him that knows this is foolish, almost dangerous in how real it feels, is drowning beneath the rest of him that is craving more. 

Another moment of staring passes, then Tony gestures to the view outside. "So what’s the deal with the space vacation?"

"You...you can tell that we’re in space?"

Tony squints at him. "Didn’t we already go over this?" 

"Oh, what, like you’re incapable of having your genius repeatedly acknowledged?"

"Absolutely. Humble is my middle name.

"Nope, we decided back in college that it’s actually Asshole."

Tony laughs, that dumb high-pitched giggle he does when something truly tickles him. "I thought it was Dumbass?"

“It was interchangeable."

The silence they fall into for a moment isn’t awkward, but it’s hardly comfortable either. The heaviness of unspoken words fills the space between them as they move to stand side by side at the windows, looking out into the twinkling darkness together. 

"Tell me seriously," Rhodey asks, keeping his face fixed firmly ahead. "Why you?"

Tony sighs. "The night I made this, and a few others, I looked at Morgan and realised it could be the last time I saw her. If something went wrong, if bringing everyone back didn’t work, she might stop _existing._ I’d already lost Peter, if I lost her too - if I lost you or Pepper or Happy after all of that, I’d be dead anyway, and I’d rather be gone than lose anyone else I love like that."

Rhodey closes his eyes against another fierce stab of emotion. "You stupid, self-sacrificing idiot."

"Yeah."

"I mean it."

"I know."

Rhodey opens his eyes again and looks at Tony, finding the other man’s gaze already on him. "I’m so mad at you. And I will be for a really long time."

"Guess I can’t pester you into forgiving me this time, huh."

Rhodey shakes his head. "But...I’m proud of you too. So fucking proud. Tony Stark, the real hero.”

"Yeah," Tony huffs, strangely bashful. "Who would have ever predicted that."

"You’d be surprised," Rhodey says, thoughtlessly lifting his hand to clap Tony on the shoulder, stomach sinking when it sails straight through. 

Tony looks down at the hand now hanging uselessly by Rhodey’s side. "I hate to say it, Rhodeybear, but this whole situation is really depressing."

"That’s one word for it."

"Hiding up here won’t help anything."

"I know."

"So go home," Tony says gently. "You’ve had your little pity party. Now it’s time to face life again. Spend time with Jeanie and Lila. Go visit Pepper and Morgan on the weekends. I would say combine the two but I’m convinced those two terrors will take over the world within five minutes if they meet."

Rhodey snorts even as his eyes start stinging again, blurring Tony’s face. 

"Go watch a game with Happy, tear up the skies with Sam, keep...." Tony swallows hard, the sound far too lifelike. "Keep an eye on Peter for me, help him out."

"Okay," Rhodey rasps and finds that he means it: that he wants all of that to happen. 

"And you, missy, you make sure you visit," Tony adds, looking towards the doorway. "Yeah I see you lurking back there, Blue Meanie."

Nebula slopes out of the darkness with cautious, wary steps. Her gaze flickers over Rhodey for a minute, then she looks to Tony once more. He smiles warmly at her in return and her posture relaxes ever so slightly. 

"Keeping an eye on him for me, huh?"

"It’s a mutual exchange," Nebula says. "I’m much better at it than he is."

Tony’s smile turns down slightly at the sides, a melancholy kind of fondness. “I wish we could have had more of this. God knows without you two, I never would have made it as far as I did."

"Think of all the paper football tournaments," Rhodey quips, unable to let himself truly picture what could have been; what could have carried on if only Tony had lived. 

"You were the first person to show me true friendship since I was a child, still living on my home planet," Nebula says quietly. "I will always be grateful to you for that. To both of you," she looks to Rhodey now, "for accepting me as you did."

"Wow," he croaks. "That was sappy."

"You got that right," Tony says, sounding equally choked up. "We taught you the ways of the Force well, Nebs."

"Terrans," Nebula huffs without one iota of true irritation. 

"I think you mean space bros," Tony says, giving her a wink that makes her roll her eyes. 

There’s an ending drawing in; Rhodey can feel it creeping up on them like steadily rising water. He suddenly feels so tired, like he wants to be at home on Earth in his own bed, waking up to the sound of birds outside the window instead of the lulling hum of the ship. 

But he also doesn’t want this to end. He’s said goodbye once already and it left him angry and gutted and hollow. Now, the idea of doing it all over again, even if it’s just to a memory of Tony this time, makes him ache deep in his bones; makes him want to trap this moment and keep it going. 

Like he can read Rhodey’s mind, Tony says, “Nothing lasts forever, platypus.”

"I know. Just...don’t wanna say goodbye yet."

"Even though I’m a ghost?"

"Yeah. Like you said, it’s all we got." He lets out a shaky sigh. "How long?"

"Technically for as long as your suit functions. But you’ve seen _Indiana Jones_ so you know how this works. Sometimes, you just have to let it go.’’

"What the hell does that - are you talking about _The Last Crusade_?" Rhodey asks in disbelief. "Are you actually saying you’re the Holy Grail in this scenario?"

Tony holds up his hands. "Hey, you get to be Indy! And I know how much you like Harrison Ford."

Nebula is kneading her forehead like she’s fighting a headache, and Rhodey is close to either crying or laughing hysterically, maybe both, as he and Tony look at each other, one of the very last times they ever will.

"Do me one thing?" Rhodey asks, rushed, pleading, not ready for it to be over just yet. 

"Anything."

Rhodey smirks through his tears. "Actually ride with me this time?"

There’s no denying the fact that there truly are tears in Tony’s eyes now too, making them shine, the phantom hue of brown bright in the dim light. 

Real or not, wherever and however, Rhodey loves him, endlessly, without rhyme or reason: his stupid, heroic, brilliant best friend. 

They stand close as they can, and the smile Tony gives him is full of nothing but an old, familiar kind of love. 

"All the way home, honeybear."

* * *

"It’s prettier than I remember."

Nebula tilts her head thoughtfully. "Very green."

"And blue. I like the blue best."

Nebula shoves him in the shoulder and he stumbles two spaces of the left. Tony had been standing there only a short while ago, taking one last look before he gave them both one final smile, so fond and proud, and faded away. 

Now, it’s just Rhodey and Nebula in their own little pocket once again, staring out towards the place that Rhodey really wants to set foot on again. 

"You’re not coming with me, are you."

Nebula tenses like his question is a physical blow. She looks at the tattoo on her inner wrist, the edges of it poking out from beneath her sleeve, then shakes her head. 

"You gonna join Quill and the others?"

"They are the closest thing I have to Gamora. They…"

"They’re family," Rhodey finishes gently. "I get it, Blue."

This is the right move for both of them, he knows that, but that doesn’t make the idea of not seeing her every day sting any less. What they’ve shared, all they know, it’s a blanket of comfort that he hadn’t even realised he’d been hiding under until it’s about to be pulled away, exposing him to what comes next. 

He touches her shoulder softly, waiting for her to look at him to say, "Just make sure you come and visit, okay?"

The hug Nebula pulls him into is quick but tight, a full body press with strong arms holding on so fiercely, and then she’s gone, leaving him to sink into one of the pilot seats with an exhausted groan. 

There’s only one more thing left to do now. 

He presses the necessary buttons and waits, heart all but blasting out of his chest. 

_"Hello?"_

"Pepper?"

There’s a far too long silence, then Pepper laughs, a whisper of happy relief. _"Are you coming home now?"_

* * *

Sunlight is streaming through the trees when Rhodey pulls up to the lake house. There’s not a cloud in sight and the late morning warmth is pleasant against his skin as he steps out of the car, breathing in the scent of freshly cut grass and earthy ground. It’s so far from the cold, snowy place he’d left behind; a place that had felt so lifeless and haunted. 

Now it’s welcoming, somewhere he can’t imagine being away from too long again. 

As he makes his way towards the house, the garage door flies open and there’s a loud, squealing stream of beeping as something races towards him brandishing a fire extinguisher.

"Whoa, hey, whoa, Dum-E, it’s me, put that down - "

Dum-E does as he’s told and discards the fire extinguisher but doesn’t deviate from his path, arm bouncing up and down with undeniable excitement as he draws close enough to touch, claw plucking and grabbing whatever he can get hold of.

"Ow!" Rhodey half yelps half chuckles as he throws his arms up defensively. "Watch it! Yes, okay, I missed you too, I’m sorry I was gone so long, boy, but I’m back now, okay?"

The long, low trill Dum-E makes as he rests his claw against Rhodey’s shoulder, so like a dog leaning against its owner, is understanding but sad. Rhodey wraps an arm around him as best as he can. 

"You’re a good boy, you know that? I promise I’ll come hang out more, throw some wrenches around for you."

Dum-E beeps twice.

"I know it’s not the same as - as when Tony did it, but cut me some slack here, I helped make you. Pretty sure the least you can do is fetch a wrench for me."

Dum-E seems to agree and pokes him gently a few more times before rolling away to collect his fire extinguisher. As Rhodey watches him go, he spots a figure watching him from the garage doorway. It startles him how much she’s grown since he’s been gone, her features angled even more like Tony’s than he remembers, eyes dark and intense as she looks at him. 

He begins to approach cautiously, pausing when he gets a suspicious glare. So he crouches down, keeping his gaze steady, and slowly opens his arms. 

"I’m sorry, Morgan."

She’s running to him a second later, already crying, and throws her arms around him. 

"Too long," she weeps into his neck. "That was too long!"

"I know," Rhodey whispers, holding her even tighter. "I’m sorry."

"I missed you. I thought you were gonna be gone forever like Daddy."

Rhodey leans back to look at her, pushing hair away from her tear-streaked face. The urge to promise her that he won’t ever leave her is nearly impossible to fight back, but she’s far too smart for things like that; has already suffered an incomprehensible loss and had to watch the world celebrate it. There’s no room for empty guarantees anymore. 

So he tells her something that he absolutely knows to be true. 

"You know I love you, right?" he asks gently, stroking a thumb across her cheek. "Huge infinity forever amounts?"

Morgan nods. 

"Well, that means that I will always do my best to come home, okay?"

"Daddy didn’t come home."

Rhodey wipes more of her tears away. "No, he didn’t. But he loved you too, more than anything else in the whole universe, and he always will."

Morgan rubs her nose. "You promise?"

Now that’s one he definitely can give. "Absolutely."

Morgan's hands settle against the back of his neck, fingers playing with his hair, reminding him of the way her chubby little fingers would fiddle with the tag of her favourite blanket when she was a baby. "Do you miss him?" she asks softly. 

"You know what, baby girl, I’m pretty sure I could count every star in the sky faster than explain how much I miss your dad." He pulls her in for another hug and stands up with a muffled groan, braces whirring. "But that just means he was here and we loved him and he loved us, and that’s the important thing to remember."

"Uh huh." Morgan hugs him, legs dangling by his hip. ‘’Did Aunt Nebula get my space whale?’’

‘’She’s still looking. They’re pretty rare, you know.’’

Morgan nods, like she did indeed already know this. "Do you wanna make cheeseburgers?"

Rhodey casts his eyes skyward, snorting fondly. "Sure, honey, we can do that."

As he turns towards the house, Morgan babbling in his ear about some trip that Peter is planning on taking with his friends soon, he finds Pepper standing on the porch. She looks a little different too, though he can’t place how exactly. The smile she gives him is bright, affectionate, her eyes sparkling. 

"Come on,'' she calls. ''You know you have to earn your keep around here if you want lunch."

Rhodey meets her on the porch and hugs her close, Morgan squished between them. 

"It’s good to have you home."

"Yeah," he murmurs. "Good to be home."

He sets Morgan down and starts to follow them both inside, but a rush of a warm breeze makes him pause. He turns to follow it, looking out towards the lake as it brushes past him again, gentler this time, almost like an arm wrapping around his shoulder for a moment. 

Rhodey smiles at the familiar feel, one eye squinting into the glare of the sun on the water. "Hey, Tones."

The breeze does one more loop, swirling across the yard easy and free, and then everything becomes still once more. 

**Author's Note:**

> Grief is a toxic, painful thing that changes people, sometimes makes them do things they never thought they ever would, and that's a huge part of the ongoing struggle for Rhodey in this, which is why it became so big haha and though I never intended it to get so big, I'm also surprised it's not way bigger as there was so much more I could have explored but ultimately, the end goal was for Rhodey to find a way to come back to life after dealing with a loss that would be incredibly painful, despite always knowing deep down that he would lose Tony earlier than would ever be fair.
> 
> However, while this was the end goal, it wasn't ever the only point of the fic, as the journey was always the most important part, not just for Rhodey but for Nebula too. It's no secret how much I love these two, and Tony, together and separately, but getting to focus more on the friendship between Rhodey and Nebula was always the foundation of this story, and I hope I've done them justice. 
> 
> If you made it this far, thank you for reading! Kind comments and kudos are much appreciated <3


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